Of Wolves and Winter
by TheMagpieQueen
Summary: Many were terrified of the she-wolf, Lysara Stark. They claimed that her heart and soul was claimed by winter long ago. When her violent dreams start to come true and a deadly game of thrones has begun, she is thrust deeper into danger and will go to all lengths to protect her family. Lysara must protect them from the winter that is coming and the dead that comes with it.
1. Prologue

_Winterfell_

Lysara Stark

Lysara had not meant to cause any upset. The lovely kennel dog that she had named Ember had passed giving birth to her pups, she had simply leant over and kissed the dog's head, making a promise to protect the pups when suddenly the dog's eyes shot open and she began to howl. Lysara had screamed, unsure of what to do but before anyone could find or say anything to her or before the once kind dog could attack her, she ran off into the wintry woods out of fear. Her mind was racing as she let out small whimpers, covering her cold bare arms with her hands and rubbed them desperately for warmth. All she could think of was what would happen to her.

 _What if they kill me for being a witch?_

 _What if they think I'm cursed?_

 _I don't want to die,_ Lysara thought fearfully as her bottom lip trembled. The North had turned deathly cold at night, the wind was icy and felt as if she was being stabbed by thousands of sewing needles. The winds blew harshly, blowing her hair into her face and the frozen grass felt like glass below her feet. The freezing air made her shiver harshly as she stumbled through the woods. Lysara had ran and ran until her lungs burned from the lack of air and she could barely see, her eyes kept fluttering shut. She no longer could feel the tips of her fingers nor her lips. She felt cold...so cold. Lysara wanted desperately to sleep but she knew terrifyingly that if she was to rest, even for a moment, she would not wake again.

Lysara stumbled towards a large tree nearby and slid to the ground. She wanted her father. She wanted her mother. She wanted Jon. She wanted Robb. She wanted someone to find her. Lysara knew that she was lost and would not make it through the night and the mere thought caused her to pull her knees to her chest and wept softly into them. _I don't want to die,_ Lysara thought once more as tears slid down her face. _I don't want to-_

"O' my Lord of Light, lead us from your darkness and cast your light upon us." A male voice sounded out, causing her to lift her head from her knees and she slowly stood once more, in a desperate search for the voice through the darkness. Lysara strained her ears and followed the voice, "Fill our hearts with fire, so that we may walk in your shining path. R'hllor who gave us breath, I thank you. R'hllor who gave us day and takes the terrors of darkness away, I thank you. Lord of Light protect us."

Lysara must have followed the voice for hours until she encountered a man singing softly in a language unknown to her but it was pleasant nonetheless around a large fire, that he prodded occasionally with a large stick. She let out a small gasp and hid behind a nearby tree, every so often peeking her head out to look at him in wonder. The man was dressed in strange garments and she knew then he wasn't a Northerner. He wore a red tunic, red trousers with a large red cloak wrapped around his shoulders. She took in his balding head and elderly face as he sang. Suddenly, he stopped and the fire dimmed slightly when he spoke once more.

"The Lord of Light has chosen you, my child-" The man begins softly, his voice barely heard. "You are one of his chosen, Lysara Stark. To help carry on his work when I can no longer."

Her eyes widen when the man looks over his shoulder at her, his brown eyes land on her causing her own grey eyes to widen in both shock and horror. _H-He knows my name?_ Her heart leapt into her throat and she slowly emerged from the treeline and into the clearing, staring on at the man with curiosity. Lysara took another step closer, although she was wary of the man, she could feel the fire and wanted to grow closer to it and seek its warmth.

"H-How do you know my name, ser?" Lysara asked softly.

"The Lord of Light has chosen you, she-wolf." The man said, urging her closer. "You must not be afraid of your fate."

"T-The...The Lord of Light?" She repeated, feeling the warmth on her skin from the fire as she edges closer. "I don't believe in the Gods."

"You must believe-" The man whispered, as she took a seat on the log nearby. He paused from speaking, unclasping the cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around her. His hand caught her shoulder by accident and she gasped at the heat from the man. He was warmer than the fire. She pulled the cloak to her body and stared at him with wide eyes, "The Lord of Light saw fit to fill you with his fire. His light. His love. Do not fret, my Lady. No harm will come. I am certain your father will arrive soon. I wanted to meet you, just the once before my passing. I wanted to convince one more person of our Lord before my fire is extinguished and I am glad that I have found you. I am afraid I cannot teach you all that you need to know, you will suffer with it...but soon, soon you will climb higher than all the rest. A wolf of winter."

"You said that I'm going to suffer-" Lysara said frightfully, looking on him warily. "I do not want to suffer."

"We all suffer, Lysara Stark. We all must choose a path to take in the hell we live in now." The man responded, his voice barely above a whisper.

"A-And...and what paths are they?" She asks.

"We choose light-" The man begins, as the fire roars with life once more before it dims. "Or we choose darkness."

Lysara watched his every movement as he talked about the Red Temple of Volantis, he told her if the time ever comes, she must go to that temple. The man reached down to the log and looked at her with a raised eyebrow and an amused expression, "Have you ever heard worshipper's of R'hllor sing?"

"We don't get red people around these parts." She offered, as he brought out a lute and held it in his hands. "But...But that doesn't mean I don't want to hear it."

As the soft music echoed in her ears and gradually built up as he began to play, she suddenly found herself drawn to the fire and became transfixed by it. It pulled her into a trance as the music was brought to her with the wind. It was strange...she no longer felt cold. She felt at peace. Lysara stared deep into the heart of the fire and let out a gasp when a person appeared in the flames, it was a shadow but it was there and she could see it. Lysara felt her eyes grow heavy at the entrancing music and the dancing flames, that forever transformed and changed. She tried her best to stay awake but no matter how hard she tried to keep her eyes open, the final blink of her eyes made her world go dark.

Lysara stirred to the sounds of birds echoing in her ears, she squirmed slightly on the ground and opened her eyes slowly only to be greeted with the woods. The snow had settled and the winds had died down. It was no longer night nor was it day time just yet, the sun had just started to appear in the sky and birds began to wake up from their sleep. She slowly sat up and saw that she was still wrapped in the red cloak and looked around the dense woods for the mysterious man from last night. He was nowhere to be found. The seven year old girl's face began to settle into a frown as she took to standing and made her way towards the fire that had long since burnt out, smoke still rose from the blackened ground. Her eyes widened when something glistening caught her eyes but before she reached for it, a hoarse voice called out-

"Lysara!"

 _Father,_ Lysara thought before quickly bending down and picking up the glistening jewel from the ground. It hadn't melted or burned. Instead, the small, tear dropped shape ruby glowed dimly in her hold. She felt the familiar warmth she felt last night as she held it tightly in her hands. Lysara let the cloak fall slowly from her shoulders and looked over her shoulder when she heard the approaching footsteps.

" _Lysara!"_

"F-Father!" Lysara cried, running for his voice with the ruby clutched tightly in her hold. " _Father!"_

Lysara stepped into a clearing and saw several men upon their horses but her father was on foot. His face was worn, worried, fearful and tired. His hardened eyes immediately lit up as she picked up her pace and ran for him, screaming for him. He shouted at her as she opened her arms wide for him, he bent down low and hoisted her up into his arms. Tears fell down her tear stained face and she buried her head into his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. He pried her away from his neck and looked at her.

"By the Gods!" Her father said, his voice sounding like thunder. "Why did you run off? We have been so worried, Lysara! You could've have died!"

"I-I'm sorry...I..." Lysara stilled, her face growing blank as she remembered what people might think of her if she told them the true. "I just wanted to explore the woods at night."

"Never again." He said firmly, looking at her with a cold stare but it softened as he wrapped her into another warm embrace.

"Your daughter's a bloody wolf, alright." Ser Rodrick said, dismounting from his horse and walked towards them. "How did you survive?"

"... _Light."_ Lysara said calmly, looking to the ruby in her hands. "Light saved me."

* * *

 _Winterfell_

 _8 Years Later_

Eddard Stark

"And which one of you was a marksman at ten?" Lord Eddard Stark questioned.

His lips twitching into a small smile as he looked down at his two sons, Robb and Jon, who were attempting to teach his younger son, Bran how to shoot. Although the lessons were entertaining for him and the entirety of the yard to watch, for Bran, the lessons were not going as well for him. Robb and Jon shared amused glances as Bran took a shaky aim once more and fired. He looked over to the target and found no arrow in sight, instead, it had pierced a nearby sack, allowing its contents to spill out.

"Imagine yourself as a three-eyed raven, Brandon." An airy voice spoke. "Only then will R'hllor shine his guidance upon you."

Everyone turned to figure that was strolling towards Robb, Jon and Bran slowly. Or in his case he and his Lady wife, Catelyn looked down to see their eldest daughter, dressed head to foot in her red garb, walking towards Bran. Ned watched with a raised brow as she bent down and whispered words unknown to him in Bran's ear. His eldest daughter was always a sight to behold; her long, dark hair pulled up into a knot, with a strand, here and there, curling out from the knot. Her grey eyes that held mystery were focused completely on his young son.

Ned looked down, smiling softly, although, at this moment in time, it was a sad smile he wore on his face. He was reminded of the time his sister, Lyanna was talking to their brother, Benjen. Lysara was a spitting image of his sister, it even made it difficult for him to even look upon her at times. Though, Lyanna and Lysara were different despite sharing the same looks. He could compare them to the sun and the moon. His daughter was like a fire amongst winter, as her crimson dress brushed against the grey ground while his sister was a blue winter rose. _She looks as Lyanna once did at the age of one and five._

They may look alike, but that is where it ended. Their personalities differed. His dear sister was wild as his youngest daughter, Arya but still held the gentle soul that his second eldest daughter, Sansa possesses. Lysara was anything but, she was distant and cold as the Northern winds, always speaking in rhymes and riddles that brought a chill to him. Nevertheless, she was strong and fierce as any she-wolf of Winterfell. Ned could feel the hackles of his wife rise steadily, as he caught her watching their daughter with a heavy and concerned frown.

He once knew a girl that had the entire world at her fingertips, he remembered the little girl that would climb the entire castle and would wander the woods. Except on her seventh nameday, she had wandered too far from them. Lysara was missing for a day and night. Ned recalled that night, it was a long and cold night when they searched for her. The winter winds felt like he was getting slapped, the icy rain felt like needles being pressed into his skin and the snow made his boots turn wet and his toes grow cold and blue.

He had thought her dead, if it wasn't for the burning fire he and his men had come across, she would most likely be dead. though the fire was the reason he had found her and the fire was the reason he had lost her. They had come across Lysara, holding onto a burning ruby next to a roaring fire wrapped in a heavy fur cloak, claiming that 'the Lord of Light' had saved her. Ned asked her how she came to this conclusion but all she spoke was riddles.

 _I almost lost her like I did Lyanna. Like I did my father and my brother._

Catelyn made it clear at every turn that she disapproved of their daughter's chosen religion, she claimed that it was the religion of demons and that no good would come of it. His own face set into a frown as he recalled what the small and suspicious folk of Wintertown had hailed her as. _The Demon of the North._ Ned felt saddened for his daughter in a way, knowing that it would most likely be a lonely existence if she chose to lead this life, as the past three potential suitors, she had scared them off, voicing their unfortunate futures and speaking of prophecies.

Lysara claimed she had sworn herself off, that she would not marry despite Catelyn pressing him on the matter. His auburn haired wife has fought him on the matter but he had the final say, and Lord Eddard Stark was in no hurry to marry his daughter off, though he prayed to the Gods for her. As her father, he did not want her to be lonely, he did not want her to lead such a life and prayed for a man suited to her, someone that could understand her. Though there was very little men who could, even himself.

"How can he hit the target with such little faith?" Lysara asked smoothly, raising an arched eyebrow. All Jon did was drag his eyes, a small chuckle escaping his lips as Robb's brows furrowed into a scowl. "Do not give up, Brandon. If you give up now, you will never achieve any sort of greatness that will come to you, little pup."

Eddard merely shook his head, as this was nothing new. She always preached and practiced her faith, although he knew her dedication was certainly a good thing, her religion was not. It was a rarity to come across anyone in the North who worshipped the Lord of Light, which made her less approachable than he would like for his daughter. Even with her siblings, she was rather detached. Lysara was cold as the winter that she hailed from. And at times, that frightened him, the way she would rather sup by herself in her chambers rather than in the hall with her family. Though, he did not doubt that she possessed something, of what, he did not know but what he did know was that everyone should be wary of it.

" _Sara!_ " His youngest child, Rickon exclaimed, diving down from the fence and threw himself at her legs. Her impassive exterior lightened slightly, as she reached down and hoisted him up into her arms.

"Hello, my wild pup," Lysara said, her voice remaining soft and cool, although it sounded happier to him. "Let us leave the boys to their tragic embarrassment."

 _Though is it not the youngest they love the most?_ Eddard remarked to himself, as Lysara held Rickon to her chest and began to walk away, but as he pondered on what she meant by their 'tragic embarrassment', an arrow shot past Lysara and embedded itself into the target with a large thud. He looked on with wide grey eyes, his head snapping downwards towards the shadows before he began to chuckle, as he spots Arya bowing mockingly towards the three boys. _I guess she was right, after all, no boy wants to be bested by a girl. A sister, no less._ Ned saw Bran's face redden immensely, causing Arya to run for Lysara as Bran gave chase to her.

The three youngest children made their way out of the courtyard with Lysara, leaving Robb and Jon to collect all the stray arrows. Ned merely shook his head in amusement at his children's antics, they disappeared into the distance, running in circles around Lysara, laughing and jesting like children should. He immediately turned to face Catelyn with a small smile on his face but his smile faded, as his wife's blue eyes narrowed when she saw him turn to face her.

"I do wish you wouldn't encourage them." Catelyn sighed, bristling slightly. "I understand that she is not comfortable worshipping the Seven but she used to worship your Gods. Has she ever tried to worship the Old Gods? No. I thought you and Lysara came to some for of an understanding that she would at least try your religion before she converted to...to _that."_

"Lysara knows her own mind." Eddard sighed, trying to appease her but she merely shook her head firmly. _Stubborn woman._

"Regardless, she has been Northern gossip for years. And gossip spreads, soon the entirety of Westeros will think of her a demon. Lysara honestly believes in this supposed Lord of Light. It is not good for her to embrace such a religion, nothing good has ever come from that religion." Catelyn breathed, visibly shuddering at the thought. "That night when the Gods returned Lysara to us, she was no longer the child I had raised. Ever since she began to practice that religion, our daughter has been taking the milk of the poppy ever since to ease her into sleep as she wakes every night screaming. I have heard her talk with Maester Luwin, she considers herself to be a _Red Priestess!"_

"What has she done?" Ned asked finally, after a long period of silence between them. "What has Lysara done to make you hate her so?"

"Hate her?" His wife repeated slowly. To say that she was angry would be an understatement, she was _livid_ , as her face went paler with rage. "You think I hate my _own_ daughter? My first born _daughter._ My own flesh and blood?"

"Cat-" Ned began, sighing heavily as he went to take her hand but she quickly and fiercely snatched it away. "I do not understand your problem, it is nothing but a religion. She is no demon nor should we care about the gossip that spread. Albeit I am not entirely happy with her choice but we cannot simply force her to take on a different religion simply to appease us. I...I understand your hatred for Jon, _I do_ , but Lysara is our daughter. I do not understand the problem you have with her."

"Ned, Lysara is just that, _our daughter_ ," Catelyn says while she sucks in a sharp breath and looks to him. "You and I both know that no house from the North or the Riverlands would ever accept her as a wife for their son. Nor would they accept any children that she may bare as heirs because of that religion. I have looked into it, the Red Priests and Priestesses never _marry_. They _wander_ the world. They prepare for a battle against the Other. Do you really want such a bitter, lonely life for our daughter? Such a _dangerous_ one? And what of our other children, she has frightened all of them at some point, even your bastard with her _supposed_ prophecies!"

"Catelyn-" He began but she shook her head, interrupting him once more.

"There are so many good matches we could make for Lysara. Her cousin, Robin for example. Or Jory Cassel. Even a Forrester. I truly believe she could take on the role of the Lady of the Vale, she is peaceful in that way, as is the Vale of Arryn. My sister Lysa said she would happily accept her. I don't want Lysara wasting the life she has been gifted with by following a dying religion, Ned." Catelyn breathes. "Lysara cannot live off of dreams that will never come true. As they are just that, dreams. Nothing more, nothing less."

Before Ned could retort and object to such matches, the sound of a gruff throat clearing drew his attention away from his wife to the man behind him. Ser Rodrick Cassel stood there, standing stiffly, no doubt feeling misplaced for having interrupted a personal moment between his wife and himself talking about their daughter. Eddard wondered briefly if he heard Catelyn talk about his son being a potential match.

"Forgive me, my Lord and Lady. There is an urgent matter which requires your attention Lord Stark." Ser Rodrick said curtly, his eyes remaining on him. A look he knew all too well. "A deserter from the Wall."

"I see," Eddard replied with a firm nod of his head. "I will be with you in a moment, Ser Rodrick. Have the horses prepared."

"Yes, my Lord." Ser Rodrick nodded, before turning with a swish of his heavily furred cloak and walked back into the castle.

"We-" Ned began, before he made the move to follow him. "Shall discuss this more when I return."

* * *

Lysara Stark

Lysara strolled through the thick forestry, having abandoned her younger siblings long ago as she needs peace to make sense of her dreams, as she always found herself doing. She did not know what disturbed her more, the dreams of a man adorned with a wolf's head or her dreams of ice and fire consuming her. Either way, she knew that the dreams she was given were foretelling a good future for both her and Westeros. Lysara had once choice, like any other in this hell that they live in. It did not matter if they were young or old, wise or foolish, from a bastard born to a high Lord, every choice they make will seal their fates.

 _We choose light or we chose darkness,_ Lysara thinks to herself, repeating the words the man she encountered long ago once told her.

Lysara stilled in the middle of a clearing and placed her hand on a nearby tree, she let her grey eyes flutter close and let herself feel the nature around her. The sounds of birds, the feel of the damp bark against her palm and the smell of the damp ground after the rain. Although she felt peace in the woods, this time, she couldn't help but feel unsettled. Lysara felt sorry for her younger brother Brandon, who would come to witness his first death of the many deaths he would face and she was unable to keep the tears from rising in her eyes.

Lysara was brought out of her thoughts when she heard a loud whine and raised an eyebrow, reopening her eyes and let go of the tree, making her way further into the woods. Lysara dwelled further and further into the darkening woods until she came across a small stream. Though the sight made her lips part, as she entered the clearing and picked up her heavy and warm red skirts and approached the amazing sight in front of her.

"By the light of R'hllor." Lysara breathed, her face falling into one of awe as she stared on at the panting creature. _A direwolf._

It was no ordinary wolf but rather, a direwolf, Lysara never thought she would live to see the day she would see the animal that her house's banners bore. The direwolf was the living embodiment of House Stark's sigil. Lysara found herself inspecting the creature of beauty, with fascination and awe as the direwolf lay a few strides away from where she stood. She frowned, wondering why it would be so far from the Wall when she noticed that its belly was large, round and contracting every moment or so. _By R'hllor's will._ The direwolf was pregnant and in labour.

Lysara edged closer to the direwolf but took a careful step back when the great she-wolf lifted her great head and snarled threateningly towards her, gnashing her sharpened teeth together. Their eyes met and held a stare, but when the she-wolf saw that Lysara would not take a step closer, the direwolf lay her head back down and continued to pant, whining in pain as she did so. She extended her arm and hand out slowly to the grey pelted direwolf and neared the pregnant she-wolf with wariness.

"Hush now, my sweet." Lysara murmured. "I will not hurt you...I want to help you."

The grey direwolf didn't raise her head, so Lysara took this as her opportunity to near her, she brushed her red skirts down and knelt beside the direwolf. The direwolf threw its head back and howled lowly but Lysara merely hushed it, caressing the she-wolf's fur soothingly. The shaking direwolf stills under her touch before their eyes meet once more, they remain silent for a few moments, the only sound heard was their breathing before the direwolf rests her head on the ground once more.

"It shall be alright." She whispered, a small smile appearing on her face. "You are _beautiful_..."

If she was not already mad, she would have lost her sanity then as the direwolf lifted its head and gifted her a small nod. Lysara tried to reason it but in the end, she could not. The she-wolf's pants became harsher and she began to both push and pull, which made Lysara gathered herself, unclasping her cloak and lifted it from her shoulders as she readied herself into a position where she could help from. This was not new territory for her, as she had seen all the births of her sibling, be it by a dream or by witnessing it first hand. Lysara closed her eyes, reaching up to clasp her ruby necklace that glowed dimly and braced herself for what was to come.

It was not pleasant, the hour was gruelling and gruesome but she somehow found herself in awe of it all and embraced this. Lysara stared at the six pups stained red that lay, wriggling on the forest ground, seeking warmth from the cold air. Lysara gently cradled them, picking them up by the scruff of their neck and wrapped them in her fur coat. She knelt closer to the direwolf, to present the she-wolf with her new children but saw that the she-wolf's eyes were closed and it lay deathly still, its chest no longer rising and falling. Lysara held the precious bundle close to her warm chest and slowly turned when she heard the frantic voices and footsteps approaching.

"By the Gods!" Her father, Lord Eddard Stark breathed, looking on at the bloody sight in front of him with wariness.

"Six pups," Lysara said lowly, her voice carried with the winds as she held the pups in her blood-covered arms, despite the looks of horror given to her. "This was _destined_."

* * *

Author's Note: Hi! Hopefully you like the first few chapters of 'Of Wolves and Winter'. Let me know what you think and if you have any questions, feel free to ask and I'll happily answer them.

Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones (or A Song of Ice and Fire), it belongs to the character killing, genious of a man, George R.R Martin! I don't profit from this story except for the enjoyment of writing it! I don't own any of the character's except for Lysara Stark.


	2. Chapter One

_Winterfell_

Catelyn Stark

Lady Catelyn Stark sighed, looking intensely at her daughter, watching over her as she slept soundly in her bed, the furs pulled all the way up to her chin. Catelyn couldn't help but curse both Ned and Lysara. She knew that something like this would end up happening if her husband kept on indulging their daughter and their fantasies about that demon religion. Her eldest daughter was found sleepwalking around the Godswood, it was Ser Jory Cassel who had found her in the freezing cold, in the early hours of the morning as he went to train. The skies were still dark and the air was still bitter than when she raced down the halls to her daughter's chambers upon receiving the news.

Lady Catelyn was terrified when she saw her daughter being carried and brought back into the castle, disturbed yet still somehow managed to remain claimed by sleep. Catelyn was curious yet angered at how her daughter had managed to get out of the castle, unnoticed, but she knew that could wait until her daughter had woke from her sleep and was well. Lysara had been unconscious for several hours and nothing could be done to rouse her even the Maester had trouble in doing so, placing every powerful herb that he could think of under her nose to wake her yet nothing worked. The auburn haired woman pondered on getting supplies to make a prayer wheel, but Maester Luwin assured her that Lysara would be fine and that she just needed rest. Even with that, she would never risk the life of her child and decided to leave and get materials, to put her mind at ease. It would make her feel better while she worried over her daughter. It would make her feel as if she was doing something to help.

However, as she rose from her chair, a strangled noise drew her attention back to her dark haired daughter. Her deathly pale daughter started to twist and turn wildly, it was as if she was caught in a night terror of sorts. Catelyn quickly sat back down, looming over her daughter and attempted to soothe her in the only way she could. Lady Catelyn placed the back of her hand on her daughter's feverish cheek and stroked her soft skin gently.

"It is alright, my sweet. You're alright. I'm here." Catelyn said softly, as Lysara began to settle once more. "There we go, that's it. Just sleep." Lady Catelyn peered at her pale skinned girl and once her daughter finally stilled, her chest rising and falling at an even pace, did she fully relax back into her chair. She continued to brush her thumb against her daughter's scorching hand. The heat radiating from her daughter should have worried her greatly but it was normal for Lysara. _She always has been warm,_ Catelyn thinks to herself.

Catelyn Stark loved her daughter with her entire body and soul, with all her heart but she would and could not tolerate this poisonous religion. _It is killing her._ No matter what Lysara, Eddard or that bastard may think, she did love Lysara fiercely and only wanted what was best for her, like she did with all of her children. She just wished for them to know that. Her blue eyes refused to look up from her daughter's face, taking in her daughter's pale and parted lips and the dark shadows underneath her closed eyes. She let out a shaky sigh, reaching into a bowl of cool water that the Maester had collected and rinsed out the cloth. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

" _Enter._ " Lady Catelyn said as she dabbed the cloth on her daughter's face.

Catelyn stiffened when she gave a side glance to Jon Snow, who entered her daughter's candlelit chambers slowly, silently creeping in fully. He closed the door gently behind him, a frown set on his face as he looked on. She shook with anger, her eyes narrowing as she looked up wildly to see her husband's bastard walk over to the other side of the bed, looking down at her daughter's face. _Why is he here? He has no right!_ Catelyn thinks fiercely, eyeing him. _He has no right to anything. Not ever. Especially not Lysara!_

"Is…Is she going to be okay?" Jon murmured, as she fixated a piercing gaze on him.

"What?" Catelyn demanded, her eyes meeting his own.

"I...I, is Lysara alright?" Jon inquired once more, his face paling and his eyes widened at her stare. "Rickon is upset by it. He won't stop crying."

"Lysara is fine." She confirmed sharply, letting out a loud sigh before she started to curse herself for not getting the materials to make a prayer wheel, at least then she would have something to do to distract her from the fact that the bastard was standing a few mere inches from her. "Maester Luwin has assured us, she is perfectly fine. She needs rest, one too many disturbed nights, he claims."

"That is good news, my Lady," Jon said softly, a small smile appearing on his face as he stared down at Lysara.

"Yes, it is," Catelyn responded curtly, as she too found herself looking down at Lysara, who was sleeping soundly. She slowly looked back up at the bastard, eyeing him carefully, taking in his features before a question came to her mind. "Where are her siblings?"

"My Lady?" Jon asked, confusion setting on his features.

"You heard me, _bastard_!" She snapped, uncaring that he winced at her sharp tone or cruel wording. "Where are her siblings? I have no patience nor time for this, so I will not ask you again."

"Rickon is unsettled, but Maester Luwin and Lord Stark are seeing to him," Jon reported. "The rest of her siblings are sound asleep."

"Sleeping?" Catelyn asked, raising a brow. "Are they well?"

"I believe that they are, my Lady," Jon answered, not once looking up from Lysara's face.

"That is interesting," Catelyn hummed as she rose from her seat and stood up, wanting to come eye to eye with Jon. "I find it rather interesting that her siblings are well and sleeping in their beds, while you, her bastard half-brother is here, worrying at her side like I. Is it not strange?"

"I...I suppose." Jon swallowed, his eyes shifted from Lysara's face to her glare, as he shrunk back. "I mean, what I mean to say is, that Lysara does not have a very close connection with her siblings with the exceptions of Rickon."

"Are you accusing my children of not caring for their sister?" Catelyn seethed, giving Jon a look of warning before she would attack.

"Of course not, my Lady!" Jon said quickly, wincing from her glare. "I meant that when they knew and were assured that Lysara was well, they saw no reason to be here. I am sure that if Lysara was to find herself in any danger or was seriously sick, they would be waiting beyond that door!"

Lady Catelyn merely scoffed, dragging her bright blue eyes before she looked back down at Lysara, placing a hand upon the girl's sweat ridden and clammy forehead. She took the dark curls that stuck to her face and tucked them behind her ear before her eyes averted back up to Jon, as they filled with a hidden curiosity.

"Tell me-" Catelyn began, "Why do you care so much for my daughter?"

"She is my little sister," Jon answered sincerely. "I'm her brother."

" _No_." Lady Stark denied, her voice breathless as she shook her head. "That is where you are wrong, Jon _Snow_. Lysara has three brothers who love her dearly; Robb, Bran and Rickon. And has two doting younger sisters, Sansa and Arya. You are nothing, bastard. A mistake. Do you understand?"

 _"Jon's destined for many great things, mother."_

Catelyn's eyes went wide at the airy voice and turned her eyes quickly back to Lysara, Jon hurriedly followed her gaze, his mouth falling agape at what he saw. Lysara's cold grey eyes were peering up at them, a hidden emotion held in them though her eyes were narrowed, her eyes landed on the ceiling and she stared blankly at it, appearing to be deep in thought.

"The Lord of Light will fill him with courage on his perilous journey," Lysara stated as she sat up slowly.

Lady Stark clutched at her heaving chest, digging her nails lightly into her chest and let out several sighs of relief. Her eyes flickered shut at the sound of Lysara's low and cool voice. Although sometimes it did sound as if her daughter had one too many to drink. Catelyn recalled the happiness and lightness that her daughter's voice once held but that night in the woods changed her. _Something_ happened. She did not know nor will she ever know what truly happened that fateful night.

"How is Ghost?" Lysara asked, causing Jon and Catelyn to still. "I trust he is well."

"How did you-" Jon began but Catelyn interrupted him.

"How are you feeling?"Catelyn asked softly. "Are you alright?"

"I am well, mother." Lysara murmured, as she pulled back the furs and sat up.

Lady Catelyn briefly wondered how Lysara felt when it turned out she did not get one of those pups she helped birth and contemplated making the bastard give up his own pup so that Lysara would have one. _It was destined,_ Catelyn remarked on what Eddard said. Although she was not fond of the pups, knowing that they would turn one day into overgrown and deadly beasts, she did not want her daughter to feel more isolated than she already was and was livid at the fact that Jon was more welcomed than Lysara.

"I have no need for a pup, mother, merely helping the she-wolf deliver the pups and giving them the gift of life was enough to soothe me," Lysara stated, causing her blue eyes to widen in surprise at her daughter's admission. _It was as if she knew of my thoughts,_ Catelyn thinks as Lysara continues, "For I am already a wolf. Wolves are such misunderstood creatures, don't judge them too harshly mother. The pure, wild beauty they possess. R'hllor shows us the epitome of freedom by gifting us with wolves. Wolves can never be tamed."

Catelyn had surprising found herself sharing a confused look with Jon, as they listened to Lysara's ramblings as most people residing in Winterfell did so. The door opened wide and she turned her head to see Rickon, with the small direwolf padding behind him at his feet and nipping every so often at his ankles. His face broke into a smile and he giggled, racing for Lysara. He pounced on the bed, the small direwolf pup following after him. _Shaggydog,_ Catelyn remarked to herself.

Though as she looked on at the display of affection between the elder sister and the younger brother with a fondness, one thing remained on her mind as she looked on at her tired, grey eyed daughter with hidden worry and fear; _What is happening to you Lysara? The royal family are arriving today and you almost get yourself killed. And act as if nothing happened. Please, by the Seven...let the future be clearer for you..._

* * *

Lysara Stark

The darker days were yet to come and the cause of those darker days was only hours away from her home. Lysara was adamant that things would not end well if her siblings and father went to King's Landing, she dreamt of it. Lysara had looked into the flames, praying for a saviour, praying for Azor Ahai but all she was allowed to see was a great game take place. This pawn made a move and then the other pawn made a move, on and on she watched them play, the game never ended until they had destroyed the world.

 _When the wolves leave for the lion's den, throats shall be torn._

The fire from the small pit roared with life behind her, causing a smirk to appear on her pale face as she twisted certain parts of her curly locks into braids, to keep the hair out of her face and eyes, there was nothing more irritating to her than when hair managed to get into her eyes or mouth. Lysara pulled on her red cloak across her shoulders, clasping her choker necklace around her neck and made certain that her ruby pendant was not twisted, as it would cause her some discomfort if it was.

As she passed down the hall, her eyes averted to Arya's chambers and tilted her head slightly, listening carefully to the grunting and groans of annoyance. Lysara extended her hand and opened the door wide open, before clasping her hands together and placed them over her lap. She watched with raised eyebrows to see Arya, grunting and complaining as she fiddled impatiently with her dress and hair. Arya turned to face her and her eyes immediately narrowed, pointing an accusing finger at her.

"You promised!" Arya stated fiercely, huffing a small breath as she struggles into her dress. Lysara says nothing, merely raises an eyebrow and walks over to her sister and sits her down on a nearby stool as Arya continues her angered and annoyance rant, "You promised that you would somehow convince Jory to give me sword lessons. You swore by it! I hate this...acting like a girl, I don't want to be like you or... _Sansa_."

"You are no girl, Arya Stark. You are a she-wolf of Winterfell, as is Sansa." Lysara informs her, as she braids Arya's hair. "You should be thankful that it was I who came looking for you, she-wolf. Had it been your Septa Mordane or our Lady mother, the hair pulling would have come with a needle brush and a long lecture on how to be the perfect 'Lady'."

Arya fell silent as Lysara tied the third braid in her sister's knotted hair and after she had done so, twisted the three braids into a bun on the crown of her head before draping her hair equally over her shoulders. Lysara laced up the back of Arya's dress loosely before she released the girl and turned the grey eyed girl around to face her. The girl huffed, folding her arms across her chest at the mere 'disgusting' act of being forced into a dress and forced to act like a 'Lady'.

"Done. Now, put on your cloak or you'll catch your death." Lysara commented, clasping her hands behind her back as Arya beamed at her, before taking her direwolf Nymeria and hurriedly left her chambers with her cloak flying behind her back.

Lysara followed shortly after and made her way out of the castle and into the courtyard, she looked on in hidden satisfaction as people winced when looking upon her or did nearly everything in their power not to meet her eyes. As she strode around the castle grounds, her eyes flickered downwards towards Bran's direwolf, jumping on her trailing skirt. The direwolf looked up at her with yellow eyes and wagged his tail, she couldn't help but follow the pup in amusement. The little unnamed direwolf then sat next to a tall wall, his eyes flickering up to the tower, causing a small smile to appear on her face when she saw where her wolf with wings was.

Lysara's eyes moved towards her mother who acted as if she were on some sort of warpath, storming through the castle as she made last preparations with Maester Luwin dutifully following her. When her mother's blue eyes met with her own, her brow furrowed but her eyes widened slightly when she noticed the pup running around her in circles and her younger brother, who was climbing an even higher wall than the last one. Her Lady mother reached her side and looked up.

"Brandon!" Lady Catelyn called, causing Brandon to look down at their mother. _He always is surefooted and nimble._

"I can see the King!" Bran exclaimed excitedly and she was sure if he were a pup, his tail would be wagging furiously, as he lowered himself from the tower and swung down the side of the castle wall, which caused her mother's breath to hitch and a smirk to appear on her own face. "I saw him! I saw the banners!"

"How many times have I told you, Brandon? No climbing." Catelyn scolded, whilst Lysara looked on with hidden amusement so that her mother did not scold her like she has done several times already. At one point all she did was breathe and her mother reprimanded her for it. Lysara knew her younger brother would never stop climbing, it was in his blood. _He will climb higher than all the rest._

"But, mother!" Brandon protested, dropping to the thatch roof as he continued his swift and agile descent towards the ground. "I saw the King, he's coming right now! Down our road!" Lysara looked on as her mother bent over to be at eye level with Brandon, his dark eyes meeting their mother's light ones and they held a both serious and stern expression.

"Promise me-" Their mother pleaded. "No more climbing."

"I promise," Brandon said, his eyes flickering down to his feet as he shifted slightly where he stood. Her red dyed lips tugged into a small smirk then as she gave a sidelong glance to her mother and then looked towards her brother once more. _R'hllor may have gifted him with many things but lying was not one of those gifts bestowed upon him._ Despite this, she was still amused by his 'solemn' vow and it seemed their mother was too, as her stern face softened.

"Do you know what?" Their mother asked.

"What?" Brandon inquired, curiosity seeping into his voice.

"To lie, you look at your feet." Lysara voiced, "It is known."

Lysara turned around and with a swish of her crimson skirts and cloak, she made her way through the courtyard, before venturing towards the Godswood, despite the protests from her mother about wandering off into the woods. Lysara knew that her mother was merely concerned for her after she was found unconscious in the woods, _dreaming_ , that was what she was doing and with dreams, come consequence.

* * *

"There you are!" Her mother exclaimed as Lysara entered the chambers, looking on as her mother eyed her red dress carefully, inspecting the dirt that lingered on the train of it. "Why haven't you changed?"

Lysara had found both her mother and sister in her Lady mother's chambers. Her mother stood behind Sansa, who looked on at her in hidden disdain as she eyed her silken crimson dress, that clung tightly to her waist, cinching it in and pushed up her breasts. Lysara clasped her hands together, folding them across her lap as she watched her sister, who was all too pleased with herself letting their mother brush her burnt auburn hair.

Although Lysara loved her siblings, fiercer than she should, she did not have a true relationship with them as she knew it would only hurt them once she left for good, never to come back as she journeyed to help fight off the Great Other. Though, with Lysara and Sansa it has always been particularly tense. Her sister was a Princess in her own right and had been obsessing over the Royal court coming to Winterfell for moon's worth. _A pretty porcelain bird, singing of dreams in her cage._ Lysara scoffed at those dreams. Her eyes landed on Rickon who ran to her and she hoisted him up, letting his head lay on her chest. She popped out her large hips as he nuzzled himself into her side. And then there was Rickon, she knew her younger brother would most likely try to follow her if she left.

"Why? What is the matter with what I'm wearing?" Lysara asked carefully, as she swayed side to side in order to soothe her brother, placing a long kiss atop of his unruly brown locks.

"It is horrible." Sansa murmured, dragging her eyes.

"As are you," Lysara tells her, holding her chin high in the air. "I'm certain that he will find you _most_ agreeable."

"You have that beautiful, _blue_ gown. You would look more lovely in that." Her mother insisted, ignoring the tension that was rising in the air.

"I do not wear any colour other than red," Lysara commented. "Red is liberating. Red represents my religion."

"Yes, we have noticed." Sansa groaned. "It is a stupid religion. It is nearly wiped out."

"You will not find it as stupid when winter comes," Lysara said bristling, her tone menacing.

"Mother...perhaps I can wear the blue dress if Lysara won't wear it." Her blue eyed sister suggested.

"You do not have the teets nor the hips for it." She retorted, still holding offence over the insult to her religion.

"Mother!" Sansa screeched, astounded.

"I do not want to see either of you fighting, not today of all days," Catelyn said sharply, placing the brush down on the vanity. "You may fight to your heart's content any other day, but not today. Sansa, go and put on your lovely pink gown. You will look beautiful in it. And no more arguing, find Septa Mordane and take Rickon with you."

"It is alright, mother. He would be unsettled if you were to move him, let him dream." Lysara said, her gaze falling from her mother to Sansa. "I wanted to speak with you, mother. _Alone."_

"I know what you wish to speak about, Lysara." Her mother began, as soon as Sansa had left. "My answer remains ' _no_ '."

"You cannot be serious," Lysara replied, her lips pressing into a firm line. "If you-"

"Do not speak to me in such a manner." Her mother warned, turning to face her fully.

"I am merely saying, why not? There are darker times we will come to face, why waste them with resentment?" She asked.

"If you were in my position, how would it look for your husband's bastard to stand in line with _your_ children to greet a guest, the King and Queen no less?" Her mother inquired, her blue eyes fixated on her dark grey.

"I would accept it. As it would not be in my duty to question my Lord." Lysara says lowly. "It would appear that my Lord husband is caring for _all_ of his children and would never leave one to the shadows, that would slowly consume him."

" _This_ , this is not a topic up or discussion, Lysara." Her mother snapped, slamming the vanity drawer harshly shut, making the mirror and various bottles of perfumes and herbs shake with the vanity.

"He is of _my_ blood." Lysara pressed, clutching Rickon tighter. "You may not call him your 'son', but he is family-"

"You are my family. I do not call him my 'son' because he is not my _son_." Catelyn said, her voice wavering as she released a deep breath and kept her back turned to her. "Six children have grown inside my womb and sucked on my breast, not seven."

"You outcast Jon for being born through no fault of his own, but what of me?" Lysara asked as she adjusted the snoozing Rickon her lap. "Am I next to be bastardised for who I am? For what I am? Do you think I have not heard of the stories? That...I...I am seen as a _monster_ to some, a monster that mothers warn their children about at night. All because you did not except that I _can_ do things no other can. If Jon does not stand in line simply for being Ned Stark's son...then neither shall I. You wouldn't want a woman worshipping a _demon religion_ to ruin things for you."

"You will do no such thing." Her mother seethed, spinning around sharply on her heel to face her, her face stone and stern. "King Robert will be here within the hour and you will not stand aside. You will stand with your family. You will stand next to Robb and Sansa. You will stand as Lady Lysara of the House Stark-"

"That...that is the point." Lysara breathed. "I am no _Lady_. I am a _Priestess_. I know what you think of my religion, you said so yourself, you called it a religion for demons. Therefore, I must be a demon myself. And no one would want to come face to face with a demon...I shan't be greeting the King. I am going to practice my religion in the woods. I will set the false Gods aflame."

"You are being selfish-"

Lysara did not bother to interrupt or give her mother the opportunity to retort as she hoisted the sleeping Rickon up further so that his head was resting on her right shoulder and his legs were wrapped around her waist which allowed her to carry him down the cold hallway. Lysara could hear footsteps behind her and stilled, knowing that it was her mother but did not bother to turn and face her.

"This conversation is not over, daughter." Her mother snaps.

" _It is_ ," Lysara replied softly. "I will be present at the feast, bur I will not be greeting the King."


	3. Chapter Two

_Winterfell_

Lysara Stark

"Jory!" Lysara breathed, her voice quiet as her breath hitched.

Jory Cassel didn't say anything but instead responded by threading his fingers through her untamed hair, that had come undone from its knot and continued to place a hard kiss to her lips as he tugged at her hair. He released a small pant and pulled away from her with a small smile on his lips, pressing his forehead against her own.

His hands trailed down further before they clutched at her waist, pressing her back against the tree. Lysara eyed him and knew it was getting dangerous. She had wanted the dark haired man as nothing more than a discreet lover but she could see it, the emotion she very feared shining in his eyes, as their eyes held a long stare. _Love._

It had started out innocent at first, at ten and four, it was mere brushes of the hand and gentle caresses but it turned to something different shortly after her ten and fifth name day. Her grey eyes flickered to his lips and tugged at them as he laughed breathlessly. Her hand had found the back of his neck and she gripped it, pressing his sweat ridden forehead further to her own.

Lysara often recalled how it started; it was when she had ventured to Wintertown, she had rocks thrown at her by the children there, who claimed she was some sort of fire demon and a witch. _A monster_ , they had said. Lysara had fled to the woods, she had never felt such a feeling of loneliness than she did then. It overwhelmed and consumed her when he found her in the woods, blood dripping from the wound on her forehead. He took care of her. And that is when it began.

"I have a favour to ask of you," Lysara murmured against his lips.

" _Anything,_ " Jory stated, as he leant over and buried his face into her neck, placing a kiss where her jaw and neck joined. "Name it. And I will do it."

"Arya wishes to take up sword lessons," She began while thinking back to her promise, as she placed her hand on his shoulder and placed her lips to his ear. "It would please me if you would help teach her somehow."

Lysara and Jory's meetings were _secret_. They meet in the depths of the woods, where the trees covered the skies and the darkness covered their bodies. They both held a love for the Northern woods.

Lysara practises her religion, singing for the dawn to always come back to them and Jory, he liked to practice his swordplay alone in the woods away from prying eyes and ears. With their meetings, they began to talk and with talking, it led to something more intimate.

"If your Lord father knew we have been sneaking out here for years-He and my father would put my head on a pike," Jory admitted with a light chuckle, as he straightened himself up while she slipped the sleeves of her dress back on. A grin formed on his face while he picked up his sword from the frozen earth and placed it back in its holster. Lysara placed her hands on his shoulders, pressing her breasts against his chest and smiled coyly, lifting a brow.

"If you think my Lord father would take your lovely head just for us meeting alone, imagine what he would do to you if he knew that you took my maidenhead," Lysara said slyly, her lips twitching into a smirk before she released her hold on him. His face curled up in disdain for a moment at the thought of it and swallowed hard.

"You will protect my siblings and Lord father in King's Landing, won't you?" She asked once more, leaning her head back against the tree. His eyes remained on her breasts and he nodded slowly before his eyes darted to her own and he placed a gloved hand on her face, brushing her cheek softly with his thumb and a fond look became present in his eyes as he stared at her.

"Of course, I will milady." He confirmed before they made their way back to the yard.

* * *

The Great Hall of Winterfell smelt heavily of roasted meat, baked bread and wine. And Lysara had found herself looking on in disdain, as the grey stone walls that were normally draped with the direwolf became an array of clashing colours because of the King's arrival.

The fierce direwolf of Stark, the crowned Baratheon stag and the proud lion of Lannister. A singer was playing the harp gently, reciting no doubt some sort of love ballad but she could scarcely hear him over the roar of the drunken conversations.

Lysara was drinking like a tavern drunkard, as she had already consumed a goblet of wine before arriving in the hall before consuming two more on her arrival. Lysara was now moving onto her fourth goblet but that was when she began to feel daring enough to survey the rest of the hall from the shadows, as she stood against a stone pillar.

Queen Cersei Lannister was the grandest of them all, as beautiful as the songs preached but unfortunately for the Lannister woman who valued her looks above all, her beauty would soon fade as drink consumed her. Her red jewelled tiara gleamed amidst her long golden hair and her face was forced into a strained and false smile, causing Lysara to bristle slightly. _Her neck is rather long,_ Lysara thinks to herself. _Soon enough many would gladly wrap their hands around her throat and choke the life from her._

Though, it was King Robert Baratheon who was the greatest disappointment. The once fierce and unfazed demon of the Trident was now nothing more than a great, fat man with a red and purple face under his massive beard. The stag King was sweating through his grand silks, his clothing bursting at the seams and she wouldn't be surprised if his clothing did burst.

"I wonder if he knows how awful he looks," A deep voice came from behind her, causing her to look over her shoulder at the small man. "I mean, he must realise he has gotten wide as he is tall. He must."

Tyrion Lannister, Lysara remarked to herself as the youngest son of Lord Tywin Lannister stood next to her, causing her eyebrow to raise as a small smirk slowly made its way onto her face. She leant back against the stone pillar that was draped in grey and black, tracing her finger along the rim of her goblet with a pointed finger before she took a sip of purple coloured and sweet wine.

"Sadness has long since consumed him," Lysara commented as she gazed down at the small man, who didn't even come up to her hips, though she supposed that was mostly due to the fact she was taller than most. Her eyes landed on Robert Baratheon, as he took a nearby wench who held a plate of food and grabbed her arse. "I happen to like his belly, makes him jolly looking despite the demons that surround him."

"I imagine he will like you as well." Lord Tyrion remarked, his mismatched eyes trained on her.

"And what does that mean?" Lysara inquired, her eyebrow lifting slightly as her eyes averted back to Tyrion and then to the King once more.

"You look quite like your aunt, Lady Lyanna. It is not any news to anyone. You have your father's eyes too, a different shade of grey thought, a dark kind. It's rather chilling. Though, I imagine the great King Robert could easily overlook your eyes and the fact that you are a worshipper of a God who likes to burn his enemies. Why couldn't you have picked a nicer God? I mean, all the Gods want something or other. Where is the God who just lets us indulge without consequence?" Tyrion asked with wonder. "No disrespect to you, of course, Lady Lysara. You will come to find us dwarfs have no tact. I think I have won my right to dress as bad as I want, to drink without care and to say anything that comes to mind. All I mean by that is...you're just as recognisable as I am."

 _Lyanna._

Lysara looked down at him with hidden curiosity. Lady Lyanna was her aunt and had died at the young age of ten and six. Her Lord father had loved his sister with all his heart and she could see it on his face and in his pained eyes that sometimes he doesn't see _her_ , but sees Lyanna in her place.

Robert Baratheon had loved the she-wolf Lyanna even more than her father ever could, Lyanna was to be his bride but the dragon fell for the wolf and thus started the song of ice and fire, thus started the series of events that would ruin the beautiful yet deadly world they lived in. And Lysara knew that Cersei Lannister would never be able to fill the darkened hole in Robert's heart that Lyanna had left after her death.

"I know of you as well," Lysara mused. "Little lion."

"And pray tell, what do you know of me?" Tyrion asked, his eyebrows raised.

"You have loved and lost too." Lysara began, peering at the man, so closely, that she could almost see into his very soul and wondered how he felt, as he shifted slightly on his feet. Lysara reached down and gripped his chin softly, lifting his head up, so that their eyes could fully meet. "You will sink deeper into danger every day. I know of that. You will fall, Lord Tyrion and you will fall hard. We will one day meet again. Be mindful until the time comes when we meet again for what a life you will lead. You will be larger than any man with shadow you cast, you will be and feel taller than any King or Knight. All good things come to those with large shadows and all will fall into place when you discover your shadow. You need no sword, as your sword is your tongue and your shield is in your mind."

"Hmm. Really?" Tyrion murmured, his eyes squinting at her. "You appear to be feeling better. What was ailing you, may I ask?"

"Pardon?"

"Your mother informed us the cause of your absence was due to illness." Lord Tyrion informed her, causing a scoff to escape her lips.

"Ah...I suppose that I may be coming down with something as of late." She replied, her tone curt and smooth.

"Those symptoms may be caused by the wine that you are inhaling." Tyrion retorted, with a smirk.

"Perhaps..." Lysara trailed off, looking on at him in admiration. "I think more wine will help. If you will join me?"

"I like your thinking," Tyrion remarked and chuckling slightly.

"And I you," Lysara said.

Lysara gifted Lord Tyrion a slanted smile, reaching down and clinked her goblet against his own. Although his last name made her wince, thinking on what was to come, she rather liked this man and his incredible wit and humour. Lysara downed her wine within two mouthfuls, a smile still playing on her face as she called over the boy that was holding a jug of wine.

* * *

Eddard Stark

Ned had remained quiet, saying little to nothing throughout the feast and looked over the hall with hooded eyes, before his eyes and face softened when he saw his younger children, almost asleep at the table.

It took his mind away from his old friend, Robert, who had been drinking heavily all night. He found himself often staring at his friend, who was like a brother to him and wondered what had become of the powerful man he once knew and called 'friend' and 'brother'.

Robert's great face was reddening even further as he grew more drunk as the night went on and with every toast, he made a crude jest and laughed loudly while he did so. He had attacked each dish that was served to him like a wild animal. Though beside him, Ned grew even more uncomfortable as the Queen Cersei Lannister looked on at the King with eyes cold as the Northern lands he resided in, her lips pursed in disdain before she turned her head away with a loud and noticeable scoff, to look on at her own children.

"Ned, Lysara has decided to join the feast." His wife said, placing her hand over his. "She looks well."

Eddard's face fell once more as he followed his wife's gaze before his eyes landed on his eldest daughter. His daughter looked out of place, adorned in her red clothing and hiding behind a pillar in the shadows, intensely staring at everything and everyone, as she downed what appeared to be her third or fourth goblet of wine.

Lysara's dark hair fell over her shoulders, glistening in the dull candlelight above her. Suddenly something had caught her eye, causing him to follow her line of vision. Bran and Arya were beginning to shoot pea pods at Sansa, which led to a dramatic outburst from her.

His eldest and first born son Robb was laughing hard, his face reddening from lack of air as tears streamed from his face. He gripped both his stomach and his youngest son, Rickon, who sat howling and squirming in Robb's lap from laughter. Though Ned's smile did not last for long and fell when he felt a pair of eyes on him, he looked to Lysara and saw that she was looking over at them and was conversing with Lord Tyrion Lannister.

His daughter always appeared when trouble was stirring, it had always been that way since her birth. He looked back to Robert carefully and saw as he swallowed a mouthful of wine, all his laughter leave him when his eyes found Lysara. It looked as if his friend's heart had stopped, his face turning pale as the snow.

 _He does not see my daughter, he sees a ghost. I won't allow any more ghosts in these halls._ His daughter adorned in her usual crimson garb had noticed the King staring at her and raised her goblet towards him in respect, her eyes holding mystery before she averted her eyes back to Tyrion and seemed to respond to whatever he told her.

" _Who_...who is that?" Robert asked, his brows furrowing slightly.

"Lysara. My eldest daughter. I'm afraid she wasn't able to attend the meeting your arrival due to illness." Lord Eddard worded carefully, suddenly finding fascination with the candlelight, to avoid any sort of eye contact with his old friend.

"Ned...she's _beautiful_..." Robert muttered, his voice unusually quiet and wistful causing him to stiffen and dig his blunt nails into the wooden table. "She looks so much like Lyanna...by the Gods! I thought I had forgotten her face..."

" _Lysara_ is not _Lyanna_ , Robert." Ned said firmly, trying to hide any fierceness in his voice. "Lysara is a Tully as she is a Stark. She is my third born child and first born daughter. Lysara was named after her aunt, Lady Lysa."

Eddard's downcast eyes flickered up and he inspected Robert, who was staring at Lysara with such a burning desire and intensity but what made Ned truly fear for his daughter, was the fact that Queen Cersei's green eyes were glaring down at the ghost of Lyanna, that he was sure now haunted the woman in the flesh of his daughter.

The Queen peered at his daughter over her goblet, eyeing her like a predator does its prey and it confirmed everything for him then. He once thought about taking her to King's Landing and if she so wished, he would allow her to take up the religion of R'hllor, properly but that stare given to his daughter was all it took to change his mind.

 _I cannot take my eldest to King's Landing,_ Eddard noted fearfully. _To do so would end her life._


	4. Chapter Three

_Winterfell_

Lysara Stark

Lysara clutched her head in pain, at the pressure gradually building up inside of her. She closed her eyes tightly, hissing between her teeth and tried desperately to rid herself of the pain. Visions were passing through her at such a force that they were nothing but misty white blurs with terrifying whispers, suddenly the visions slowed down entirely and she reopened her eyes slowly and saw that she was standing alone in the woods. As she exhaled slowly she could see her breath and looked to her feet, her red boots crunching against the snow that was layered on the ground, yet even then she did not feel cold.

Lysara looked around, turning around hesitantly. All she saw was white, frostbitten trees except for one. The tree that bleeds, the Weirwood tree. Its leaves were a crimson red like that of her dress, she picked up her skirts, a frown on her face, as she looked to see in the far distance, casting a shadow over and the forest was the Wall.

Lysara looked around, turning around with great hesitance. All she saw was white, frostbitten trees except for one. The tree that bleeds. The Weirwood tree. Its leaves were a crimson red like that of her dress, she picked up her skirts and began to walk forward, a form steadily forming on her face as she looked to see in the far distance, casting a shadow over her and the forest was the Wall. It was upon seeing the Wall that she knew she was far from her home of Winterfell.

"So close, yet so far." A voice cawed. A look of disdain made its way onto her face and she turned to see the taunting crow that visited her dreams often, fly above her head and sat on a low branch of the Weirwood tree, so that they were nearly face to face. The black bird tilts its head towards her and continues its mantra. The crow had visited her dreams since she took the Lord of Light as God and ever since, the very bird had mocked her. It's three eyes were trained on her.

"What is it that you want?" Lysara asks boldly, her eyes narrowing towards the crow.

"Many things, sister. Though, I am in need of nothing as of this moment. For now, you will do what you must. I will call for you when you are needed, as of now, you must dream." The crow tells her and with that, the three eyed crow spread his great black wings, that looked to be made of silk and flew from the branch and over her head. Her temper flares as she stares on at the ominous, truth telling bird in flight.

" _Why do you torment me_?" Lysara shouted towards the crow that disappeared into the icy, white mist that had formed thickly in the woods. Her breath grew shallow, as she tried to peer into the mist but suddenly two bright eyes shown from the mist and a powerful growl sounded out through the woods, shaking the ground and her very soul as her grey eyes met the blue eyes of the creature in the mist.

Lysara stilled, as a massive wolf with a brown pelt stalked towards her slowly. It wasn't the direwolf initially that frightened her, it was the direwolf's eyes. The icy blue eyes held an intelligence, a feral intelligence that made her shudder. Though it did not have two eyes, like one would think, it had _three_. Like the crow. Her eyes widened even further when she recognised the eyes. The eyes of her brother.

"Bran?" Lysara murmured gravely, looking on at the eyes that held familiarity.

As the beast neared her, the only sounds that could be heard were its paws against the snow as it reached her along with her laboured breaths. Her eyes met the same blue that in a way mirrored her own, they both had eyes that would show all. The past. The present. The future. The direwolf's eyes danced a dance of Kings, Kings that would both rise and fall. The eyes weaved tales of war. And they sang a song of ice and fire. The loud ringing built up in her ears once more and she clutched the sides of her head, as the visions rained a powerful storm down upon her causing her to stumble back.

Lysara gradually fell to her knees, both in pain and in shock, as she witnessed everything that was foretold. Lysara saw her own fate laid out in front of her, along with her brothers, her sisters. Her father and mother. Everything that she held dear would be taken from her, causing her to scream out in agony.

Lysara eventually collapsed to her knees, both in pain and in shock as she witnessed everything that was foretold. She saw her own fate laid out in front of her, along with the fates of her brothers and sisters. Her father and mother. Everything that she held dear would be taken from her, causing her to throw her hands out in front of her and screamed out in agony, tears sliding down her pale cheeks in both pain, fear and sadness. Her heart raced and ached within her chest, her breasts heaving and sweat beading on her forehead which made curls of hair stick to her face.

"W-Why?" Lysara asked shakily, slamming a hand against the ground harshly as she glared at the wolf. " _Why?_ "

The sky grew dark, the white clouds turning to grey and then black, as it turned to night rapidly. Lysara panted slightly, trying to recover from what had happened and kept her eyes on the wolf, never leaving it as the direwolf turned its back to her and began to walk away. She slowly got to her feet but stilled when it turned back to look at her over its shoulder ever few seconds, as it prowled through the snow. _Follow,_ a voice carried with the winds whispered and Lysara followed without any question.

Lysara felt her chest ache as she saw what would happen to Winterfell. To her home. And wondered as she followed the direwolf, how she reached her home once more but then again, nothing in her dreams ever made sense. The whispers of children were heard as she looked around but nevertheless continued to follow the direwolf. As she entered the hollow, empty halls of her home and approached the great hall with extreme wariness. Lysara opened the door wide and was greeted with a burnt out hall with nothing but a large fire pit situated in the middle of the hall.

"Do not take them from me..." Lysara says softly, her voice hollow as the hall while listening to the intense whispers and lets her eyes flutter close. She approaches the pit of burning fire and placed her hands on it and clenched her fingers around it, sucking in a sharp shaky breath. "I do not want this to be my fate... _please_..."

Lysara looked down at the fire with a frown as she saw a face take shape within the hearth. _Jon?_ Lysara asks herself...but no, it did not take his youthful features. A white face within in a tree began to form. _Father?_ No, it wasn't her father as it began to take shape, a wooden corpse bound to a tree. The flames danced around the figure, never touching him but she stilled when the eyes opened wide and bore into her very soul. _He knows I am watching him._ Lysara drew back, edging further away from the fire pit out of fear when she felt the power from him.

Her eyes met with the direwolf again and her frown deepened, she lifted up her skirts and gave chase to the wolf that had left the castle. Lysara was brought to the broken tower and tilted her head, frowning in confusion at the direwolf. The blue eyes were staring expectantly at her again before her eyes glazed over when she heard the whispers around her.

" _He saw us!"_ A woman whispered frantically.

" _Here take my hand, boy. Before you fall,"_ A man said before his voice was heard once more. " _The things I do for love."_

A body fell at her feet with a thud, causing a strangled scream to escape her throat when she looked immediately down to the body in horror. Lysara screamed his name, collapsing to her knees before falling over him in a sea of red. Her screams were all she could hear, as her dream faded and she jolted up from her bed.

" _Bran!"_

 _I need to find him,_ Lysara thought as sobs escaped her throat. She tried to calm her beating heart but it only raced harder. Lysara clutched her necklace so tightly, as she slid from her bed, that it seemed clutching onto the ruby of her necklace was the only thing keeping her from collapsing to the ground in both shock, fear and heartache. Lysara slipped from her chambers, despite being in her nightgown and scrambled down the stairs barefoot, the rough stone hurting her feet.

Her head began to spin, both her back and ankles felt weak, her leg's were unsteady as the pups when they began to take their first steps. And as she took another step out of the castle, she tripped and fell hard. Lysara threw her hands out and caught herself on the rocky ground, she hissed as the rocks cut deep into her hands. She stumbled back to her feet, shrugging the help off harshly and made her way towards the broken tower, tears blurring her vision.

 _No...no...please...no!_ Lysara thought.

Lysara's heart pounded in her chest and her ears heard the harsh beating of her heart, as she made her way to the broken tower. She pushed harshly past people who were going about their early morning duties and focused her mind completely on the tower and her little brother. Lysara turned a sharp corner but her feet slowed to a steady stop, the tears that welled up in her eyes escaped and her throat started to close.

" _Bran!"_ Lysara wailed, almost falling to her knees as she saw her fragile bodied brother lying on the ground, motionless. There was no blood, no screaming nor crying. _Nothing._ He was still. Her brother's direwolf lay by her brother's head and whined loudly, as he tried to rouse the boy. "Brandon!"

Lysara made her way over to her little brother, falling to her knees and crawled to him, tears falling from her eyes as she shakily brought out a hand and stroked his ice cold cheek, more sobs rose from her throat and escaped her lips. She slid closer to him, gently laying her hand over his parted mouth and she wept in relief. Barely, just barely she could feel his breath across the back of her hand, she pulled her hand away and clutched him light. _He's alive._

Her screams that were matched by the direwolf's howls had brought attention to them and her head snapped towards the Keep, hearing yelling and the thunderous sound of many footsteps. She saw a few knights coming around the corner, followed by Maester Luwin and her mother. Upon the sight, her mother let out a loud, piercing scream that made her blood turn cold at the sight of Bran, lying motionless next to her on the harsh ground. Her grey eyes were completely focused on her mother who ran over to them.

"H-How...How did this happen?" Catelyn cried, as she collapsed next to her unable to form any more words.

"I-I don't know," Lysara said with uncertainty.

Her eyes flickered up to the ledge of the window of the broken tower, even though her eyes were blurred and sore with tears, she could make it out. At first, she thought of it as a mere trick of the light but as she continued to stare intently at the tower, as her younger brother was carefully taken away from her hold and she was eventually left alone. The world around her was fading except for the shadows that moved quickly across the room of the tower. And the voices she heard made an icy rage fill her.

 _Brandon has never fallen,_ Lysara thought fiercely.

"Come on, Lysara-" A voice said softly, causing her to slowly avert her eyes from the tower and saw Jory, as he hooked his arms underneath her shoulder and pulled her to her feet. "Come on..."

"Bran..." Lysara croaked, closing her eyes and clutched her necklace. "He never falls...h-he never falls..."

* * *

Lysara stared blankly ahead as she held Rickon, who had his head buried into her neck and tears streaming out of his eyes, as he wept for their brother. She helplessly tried to soothe him, rocking him back and forth as they made their way through the courtyard, as the wolves continuously howled. _Cast your light down upon us,_ Lysara prayed, knowing that tonight she would burn the Seven. _Cast your light down upon us, burn away the terrors. Burn the false Gods._

Lysara's grey eyes fell on Jory as he walked towards her with Arya hoisted on his shoulders. He had been by her side since Bran's fall three days ago, helping her with her younger siblings as much as he could, despite his duties and despite Winterfell being in a state of mourning. Lysara could not put into words how much his presence calmed her. It hurt her thought, it hurt that she could not tell them that he would wake. All she could do was the mantra that 'he will be fine' into her brothers and sisters.

Lysara found it difficult to travel for worship, as she was never alone for a moment since Bran's fall. Her mother was claimed by the darkness, unable to find the light over the grief she held for her son and has been sitting at Brandon's side ever since. Her mother ignored everything and everyone and now she was unwillingly left in charge of her younger siblings, Arya and Rickon. The whole castle was tense and even Arya was acting different, making more and more unconvincing excuses to remain at her side along with Rickon. Lysara, Jory and her younger siblings made their way towards the training yard.

"Arya, take Rickon and go to Robb," Lysara ordered as she set the reluctant Rickon down on the ground. "Tell Robb that I want everyone in the hall so that we can break our fasts and I mean everyone."

"Rickon won't want to leave you. He'll cry." Arya replied immediately as she slid down from Jory's back. Lysara raised her eyebrow slightly, knowing that her sister was using the hold Rickon had over her to her full advantage, but she knew that Arya, in truth, did not want to leave her side either. "We have to stay with you."

"I will be present in the hall, this time, you can eat with me. Alright?" She offered, hoping that if she would stay in the hall to eat, which she rarely did, would make them leave but it didn't work. Lysara sighed, bending down slightly and smoothed out Rickon's damp and unruly hair. "Now...off you go. Both of you."

"I'm not hungry." Arya insisted, her grip tightening on her arm.

"You are. You haven't eaten since yesterday morn. And your belly is growling louder than Nymeria." Lysara remarked, sending her a knowing stare. "Now, take your brother and go down to the hall to eat otherwise, you will waste away."

Arya eyed her and huffed, before snatching Rickon by the hand and dragged her brother, who sniffed and pouted towards Robb, Theon and Jon. Arya's lips were moving quickly but it seemed her message was being delivered, as Robb's blue eyes flickered to her and she nodded lightly to him. Robb bent down low and hoisted Rickon into the air as Jon took Arya by the hand, leading them into the castle with Theon trailing slightly behind them, no doubt annoyed that they couldn't spar.

"Those who give the order must follow through. And you aren't following through." Jory commented drily.

"I cannot eat. I'm too exhausted." Lysara breathed, a frown forming on her face. "Rickon seems to have taken up permanent residence in my chambers and I even find Arya coming into my chambers in the dead of night, too fretful to sleep on her own. And if you take their direwolves into account..."

"I've noticed," Jory remarked, a small smirk forming on his face.

Lysara moved quickly, looking around for anyone in the yard before she pulled him into a shadowy corner behind the stables and reached up, grasping him by the back of the neck and pulled him into a fierce kiss. He remained shocked for a moment before he slowly reached up cupping her face in his gloved hands and smiled against her mouth, as their nose and foreheads touched. Her scorching skin against his cold skin.

"I've missed your lips." He breathed, as their lips parted.

"I have told you many a time, but I-" Lysara began but was interrupted as he leant in for another kiss, she moved her head aside and pressed her finger gently against his lips, keeping her eyes locked on his. "Let me finish. You have treated me more kindly than I deserve. I do not know how I would be coping if you weren't helping me with my siblings. _Thank you._ May the Lord smile down upon you."

Jory pulled away and smiled softly before he placed a long meaningful kiss to her lips. Lysara held his wrists in her hands, giving him a slanted smile when he released her. _He never did need words to express himself._

"Would you like me to walk you to your chambers?" He asked, but she could hear the teasing in his voice while he tucked a long strand of her hair behind her ear, causing her to smirk lightly.

"No. You should go to my father. I am certain he is looking for you as of this moment." She said as he pulled away, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before slipping back into the yard.

Lysara looked on, smiling slyly at his retreating figure before she straightened out her skirts and strolled back into the yard but stilled when she heard the gruff, raspy voice of Sandor Clegane. _The Hound._ Lysara took a few steps back and hid in the shadows, watching both the Hound and the tyrannical Prince Joffrey from them.

"The boy is a long time dying," Sandor stated. She stared at him intently, glowering at them darkly. "I wish he would be quicker about it."

"At least he will die quietly." The Prince sneered. "I could scarcely sleep last night because of those damned wolves."

Lysara's jaw tightened, her eyes flashing as her sharp nails dug into the palms of her hands. _Little bastard,_ she thought to herself as she looked on at the unfazed brat. He was more concerned about _his_ good night rest rather than the fact her crippled brother might die. Sandor Clegane's eyes moved around the courtyard, causing her to quirk an eyebrow. Before long he lowered the black helm in the shape of the very animal he was named after over his scarred face and head.

"If it pleases you, I will silence the creature." The Hound said, slicing his sword into the cold morning air and by the looks of it, the notion seemed to delight the lion.

"Sending a dog to kill a dog!" Joffrey exclaimed, maliciously gleeful. "This cold, barren wasteland is infested with wolves, the Stark's will never miss one."

Her blood began to boil, the whispers she always heard picking up as she grew angrier and when she lifted her skirts, about to emerge from the shadows, she noticed Lord Tyrion had made his way towards them before she could attack. Lysara stood rigidly in the background to observe the scene unfolding in front of her.

"I beg to differ, nephew," Tyrion said. "Unlike some Princes I might name, the Stark's can count past seven."

"A voice from nowhere," Sandor retaliated causing Joffrey to laugh ignorantly.

"Mother is looking for you," Joffrey leered. "We ride for King's Landing today."

"I am in no mood for any insolence from you today," Tyrion replied, before pointing to Joffrey. "Nephew, before you go. You will call on Lord and Lady Stark, and you will offer your utmost sympathies and comfort."

"What good will my sympathies do them?" The blond haired bastard snorted.

"None," Tyrion informs him. "Yet it is expected of you, your absence has already been noted."

"The Stark boy means nothing to me," Joffrey scoffed. _He is no Prince,_ Lysara remarked to herself. "I cannot stand the wailing of women."

Lord Tyrion without a second thought, reached up and slapped his nephew hard across the face. Her eyes rose in surprise but nevertheless looked on in satisfaction when she saw Joffrey, look on his uncle with offence and hurt, as he reached up and clutched his reddened and without any doubt, aching cheek.

"One more word-" Tyrion said, pointing a finger in warning at him. "And I hit you again."

"I'm telling mother!" Joffrey screeched but Lord Tyrion slapped him once more, this time on his other cheek and she closed her eyes, basking in Joffrey's screams.

"You tell her," Tyrion replied, with a shrug of his shoulders. "But before you do, get yourself to Lord and Lady Stark and fall to your knees in front of them, and you will tell them how deeply sorry you are, and that you are at their service. And see if there is the slightest thing you can do for them in their desperate hour of need and that your prayers are with them. Do you understand?"

The boy's eyes welled up with tears and she looked on, filled with pleasure at the thought he would cry. Though instead, he managed a weak nod and turned, fleeing from the yard, holding his cheeks and tried to hide his humiliation. Lysara watched in satisfaction as he ran, listening briefly to the words exchanged by the Hound and the lion Lord before Sandor Clegane slowly followed after the bastard boy.

"It is true then-" Lysara voiced, as she emerged from behind the stables and approached Tyrion. "The smallest of men do cast the largest of shadows."

"Lady Lysara." He said, bowing his head.

"I must admit, I was greatly satisfied that you left a lasting impression on the _future_ King." Lysara drawled as Lord Tyrion raised his head, a small smile on his face.

"I hope you were out of earshot and did not hear the words exchanged." He replied.

"The plot to kill my brother's direwolf or the various insults on my family?" She inquired, causing him to sigh heavily. "No, fortunately, I was too busy wondering how on earth that child could be such a bastard until I realised who his parents are...I hope that did not offend you, my Lord."

"My apologies for my nephew's insensitivity," Tyrion said sincerely before his lips turned into a teasing smile. "If he knew a Red Priestess in the flesh overheard him, I wonder how long it would take for him to shit himself."

"Many thanks, Lord Tyrion. Though you do not have to apologise for the likes of him, he will never apologise for anything." Lysara said. "I have come to not acknowledge nor accept apologies on the behalf of another. If we all did that, all of us would never stop saying sorry."

"Still...I am sorry." Tyrion stated. "For example, I am sorry to hear of your brother's fall. And I am sorry that you were the one to come across him. If there is anything myself or my family can do to ease your pain, please do not hesitate to ask."

"I will keep that in mind," Lysara noted softly.

"What of the boy? How is his condition?" The man inquired.

"He will wake." She said firmly, her eyes hardening. "I am sure of it."

"It is always good to be faithful," Lord Tyrion answered. "Will he be able to w-"

"No." Lysara interrupted lowly, knowing what he would ask. "He may not be able to walk but he may fly."

"I am truly sorry then." He said solemnly.

"As am I." She said coolly. "If only I had gotten there sooner. Though, I cannot fathom how this came to be. Brandon has never fallen, my brother has always been sure footed and has never slipped nor lost his balance. _Ever_. There was no reason for him to fall. I can't understand how it happened. I already investigated the tower."

Tyrion offered her his arm, lifting his arm higher than most men would and she accepted his offer gratefully, lacing her hand around his arm. Lysara slowed her pace to walk with him as they made their way towards the hall. As they entered the hall, she could see her siblings gathered around a table in silence while her eyes landed on the Queen, the Kingslayer and the three green eyed children. Lysara gave Cersei Lannister a knowing stare as she made her way further into the hall with Tyrion as her siblings called for her.

"You need not worry, Lady Stark." He urged. "I am sure he will wake."


	5. Chapter Four

_Winterfell_

Cersei Lannister

"You worry too much," Jaime said casually as he lay back on the seat while she paced like a caged lion.

"You heard the little Imp!" Cersei seethed. "They believe that the boy will _survive._ What if he wakes, what then?"

Cersei gnawed at the knuckle on her ring finger as her eyes landed on Jaime. Her green eyes narrowed at his smirking face. If the Stark boy lives and most importantly remembers what he saw, she knew her children, her twin and herself would be executed by Robert himself. If the late Jon Arryn was able to find out about her and her brother, she wondered how many would follow after him including the boy. She remembered the look yesterday morning that the ghost had given her.

"This is all your fault!" She hissed, stopping her pacing and faced him fully. "You aren't funny!"

"How is this _my_ fault?" Jaime drawled, placing his goblet of wine on the table and he sat up while his green eyes mirrored her narrowed ones. She turned her back to him and bit harshly into her knuckle, drawing blood while she listened to her twin. "I pushed the boy off the ledge to protect _us._ To protect _our_ children. How is this any of my fault? You were the one who desperately insisted we sneak off to the tower like some love struck fools. _Not I._ "

"And what of the boy's sister? The elder one." Cersei demanded coldly, her eyes ablaze.

"What of _her_?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"That girl...she _knows._ " She murmured, turning to face him once more. "She knows something about us...I do not know of what but she knows something. She is too dangerous, no good can come of her in the South. I know of the girl...of her supposed prophecies. The girl is insane, nothing about her is...is good."

"I doubt she will come to King's Landing, Cersei. She cares for that younger Stark boy far too much." Her twin brother said reassuringly, raising his eyebrows. "Or will you ask that I push the other young Stark boy from the tower as well, to truly prevent her from coming? As long as you are calm and let nothing slip, we have nothing to worry of, Cersei. This is paranoia."

"I will have her wed," Cersei informed him. "I will have her matched to someone as far from us as possible. I will have her wed into a barbaric mountain tribe if that will keep her away."

She looked at him with a piercing gaze as his chortles and chuckles became loud laughter, causing her to scoff and turn away, stalking towards the window. Cersei looked out into the courtyard with disdain, as she saw the red whore walk around the yard with the wild, feral wolf children. She did not like the fact that her son would marry the little dove, despite her being easy enough to manipulate she did not want to be in relations with the likes of the Stark's.

"Yes, Cersei. I am sure her mother and father will happily accept your proposal," Jaime leered sarcastically.

"The would not deny such an offer from the Queen of Westeros." She sneered, clasping her hands together. "I will have a word with them before we leave."

"And will you tell the King of such news?" Jaime inquired.

She closed her eyes when she heard him move towards her. He placed his hands firmly on her bare shoulders and began to kiss down her neck, she let out a small noise of disgust at the thought of the fat oaf and reopened her eyes and she saw the girl having words with her demon of a little brother, as plots began to form in her mind.

"What he does not know, cannot hurt him," Cersei responded simply.

"You are a fool, Cersei." He replied, pausing as he lay his chin on her shoulder, causing her brows to furrow. "Robert will not let some foreign Lord nor barbarian steal away his Lady Lyanna from him once again. Do you honestly believe this? Lady Lysara Stark may be a red whore but a fool, she is not. Perhaps she will overthrow you? Let her dig her teeth into that fat oaf. I can have you. I can have our children."

 _Queen you shall be,_ the old crone's voice taunted as she stared intently down at the mad girl dressed in red, who was making her way back into the castle. _Younger and beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear._ Cersei threw her head back and let out another scoff, this time, it was louder than before as she pushed Jaime away and made her way over to take a goblet of the horrible Northern wine and downed it quickly, before prowling out of her chambers and down to Lord Stark's study.

 _Piss on your prophecy, old bitch._

* * *

Lysara Stark

Lysara clasped her hands together, pulling her fur cloak closer to her body as she made her way throughout the cold castle. She had woke up from her dreams when dawn broke in utter agony. She had dreamt of Bran and it seemed Bran was dreaming of her. _We shared a dream,_ Lysara thought to herself with a heavy frown. She prayed to R'hllor that night, staring deep into the burning fire for guidance yet all she saw a brown wolf without a head, a caged bird and a cat in a canal. And it did nothing but offer her more confusion. Lysara stilled when she reached her father's study and entered with great hesitation.

"You wished to speak to me, father?" Lysara asked coolly, closing the door swiftly behind her.

"Yes, Lysara." Her father said as she neared him.

As of late, her father looked exhausted. His face was stone with hollowed eyes and a gaunt face. He mourned, like her mother, more than most when it came to Bran. Unable to sleep or eat properly, all he could do was worry about her younger brother. Her father worried for her brother as much as he did for her mother. Her mother had gone mad with grief, darkness consuming her as she looked herself away in Bran's chambers. Her Lord father was leaving for King's Landing soon, no matter if Bran woke or not but one thing prayed on her mind; _Those voices I heard...that shadow. If I told a single soul, they would fear me madder than I am._

"He will be alright." Lysara voiced, causing him to look up at her with a raised eyebrow. "Brandon, I mean. I dreamt of him last night."

"You did? What was the dream of?" Her father inquired carefully.

"He is well. As of now, he flies in between two words, this world and the world of dreams." She responded, as she sat across from him and eyed him with great care. "Brandon will wake. I have seen it. Therefore I am not worried about him. As of now, I am worried more for you and mother. Is everything alright? You have not been sleeping as of late."

"How do you know that I haven't been sleeping?" He questioned.

"You pace." She replied simply, with a shrug of her shoulders. "I hear your footsteps echo in my chambers at night."

"Aye. Everything is fine, daughter." Her father said solemnly. "I wished to speak to you in private before we journey South tomorrow."

"Oh!" She exclaimed softly, her eyebrows raising as she feigned mild surprise. _I know what this is about father and by the looks of it, you know it too._

"I know you wished for us not to move South, more so than anyone else..." He trailed off, his voice low as he leant forward in his seat. "I do not know what it is you have dreamt of or what it is that you have seen, but I must thank you. You have been strong for your sibling's sake and my own. Though, that is not what I wished to speak to you about...it is about a match-"

"No." Lysara snapped coldly, as she hastily took to her feet. "I will not marry. I gave up the thought of marriage long ago. You know of this."

"Lysara, sit down," Eddard said, his voice stern but still held care. Lysara stilled, stopping in her tracks before she reluctantly made her way to sit down once more. "You may not be a child anymore and you may not like what I am about to say, but I am still your Lord father and you will control that temper of yours in my presence. Is that understood?"

Lysara had hoped for this conversation to end short and swift. Ever since her first bleeding at ten, her mother began to make matches for. Her Lord father and Lady mother had discussed marriage countless of times, but with each offer, she refused, dwelling further and further into the light of the Lord R'hllor. After this, her father and mother had given upon on the idea or so she thought. It had been three years since she was approached with this and now she felt like a trapped wolf in a cave. She could not marry, her religion required for her not to marry. Besides, she wished to leave for Volantis, for the Red Temple once her brother woke. _We will meet again, Lysara of Winterfell._ The man's voice echoed in her head. _You will face me once more._

"Father." Lysara began, her voice impassive. "I do not wish to speak of marriage. I do not wish it."

"I have been patient and willing with your reluctance to marry, far more than most fathers would," Her father said and she couldn't help but agree. "This may sound maddening but your aunt, Lady Lysa, has offered to have you married to Robin. I am growing desperate and running out of suitors for you, some merely turn down the offer with the mere mentioning of your name. Lysara, you cannot possible be utterly unwilling to even talk about the prospect of it?"

"No." She replied, averting her eyes to the furs on the ground and tried to keep her voice from wavering. "Sansa is betrothed to the future King of the Seven Kingdoms, Joffrey. Why should you concern yourself with my betrothal? Robb is eager to have a bride and he is your eldest, why do you not seek a bride out for him, instead? Do not worry for me, father."

"Sansa is your younger sister-" Ned reasoned. "She should not be married before you."

"Sansa shall be wed before me because I refuse to marry." Lysara seethed, bitter tears rising in her eyes. "You have seen what I can do. I do not wish to marry."

"The Queen has offered to match you with a Reach Lord," He replied and the admission caused her to still. _Of course,_ _she would._ "Lysara, understand this, I would not allow _anything_ bad to happen to you nor your siblings. And I would never allow you to marry any man that I considered unworthy of you. You are my daughter, I want what is best for you. As does your mother."

"Yet you are journeying into the lion's den to become Hand of the King." Lysara spat, looking down at the ground. "You are allowing Sansa to wed Joffrey."

"I do not have a choice." Ned sighed, causing her to look up as tears fell from her eyes.

" _You_ do have a choice." She croaked, her eyes fiercely looking upon her father. "And you made it."

"What has frightened you so, Lysara?" He asked, concern crossing his features. "Never before have I seen you this disturbed. Tell me. Has someone said something to you? Has someone hurt you?"

"I have dreamt of things...many things," Lysara began. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she continued, " _Winter is Coming._ And it will stay forevermore, father. I have never been more scared in my entire life-" More tears fell from her eyes then but she wiped them harshly away. "They are coming, father. And we cannot do anything to stop it. They will claim the lives of thousands."

"Who will?" Her father demanded but she fell silent once more. " _Who will?"_

"Old Nan's stories are true," Lysara stated, her voice hollow and empty. "The Others will come and will strike us down."

"You mustn't say such things, Lysara." He said, but she shook her head.

"I speak the truth." She bitterly replied as it instantly dawned on her that he did not believe her. _No one ever does._

"Why are you reluctant to marry?" Her father asked. "You have a natural gift with children."

"I have said this countless of times before, _I will not marry._ My religion is all I need, R'hllor comforts me with his light." Lysara said fiercely. "I am as he made. I have no desire for a babe at my breast or to be some Lord's wife. I will not be known for that. I refuse to be known as that. I will heed the higher voices and go where R'hllor deems that I am needed. I will not be called mother nor wife."

"You speak as if marriage is a death sentence," Ned replied, a frown forming on his normally stoic face. "Your mother and I were matched, and I love her fiercely."

"Your love is a kind rarity." She retorted. "The King and Queen-"

"Lysara." Her father warned, but she ignored his warning.

"Desire is a dangerous thing, but do you wish to know what is even more dangerous? _Love._ I have read and seen what love had done to this country and I am glad that I will never be in love...minds can be manipulated with the feelings of love and desire, take Rhaegar Targaryen and King Robert-" Lysara pointed out, she watched her father shift uncomfortably in his chair. "They both loved the same woman, Lady Lyanna. They both fought for her and in the end, the three of them died. Metaphorically, in Robert's case. He married Cersei Lannister for the tedious King's Landing politics, you cannot deny that he bears her no love. A blind man could see it."

"They have three children-"

"Robert has many children, it is Cersei who has three children," Lysara informed him. "You know of that. The bastards."

"The Queen is determined to find you a match. You cannot refuse her, Lysara." Her father said gravely. "If you do, I cannot defend you."

"It is the King's decision on who I marry, if she is that _determined_ to find me a match-" Lysara said, a hint of a smirk forming on her face as she rose from her seat. "I am well aware of the King's fondness for me or if I am correct in saying, fondness of looking at me. I doubt he would welcome the fact that I would have to share my bed with another man."


	6. Chapter Five

_Winterfell_

Lysara Stark

Lysara knocks lightly on her sister's door before entering, her eyes land on her fierce sister who turns to her, a frown etched upon her agitated face. Lysara knows of that look all too well, for she too bears that look when she is annoyed. _It is like looking into a mirror of my younger self,_ Lysara muses to herself as a small humorous smirk appears on her face as she looks to her younger, dark haired sister.

Lysara chuckles lightly at the pout forming on her sister's face as she stuffs more clothes into her case. She rolls her eyes and approaches her sister's case that was no doubt carelessly thrown on her bed and unpacked her clothing before folding each item of clothing with care. Her grey eyes shot to her sister and couldn't help but smile at her fierce attitude. _It shall help her in the darker days to come,_ Lysara thought. Her mother hated it when she and everyone else, with the exceptions of Sansa and Septa Mordane, encouraged her Northern spirit. _A wild she-wolf._

"Our Lord father asked me to check on you," Lysara states and makes her way further into her sister's chambers. "He said that you were struggling."

"'They're not properly folded'," Arya says, her voice mocking Septa Mordane while she forcefully shoves dresses into her case and her face remains agitated. "And Sansa stuck her big, pointy nose in and said that I wasn't fit for King's Landing. Like I care! Who cares if my clothes are messy? It's not like the Queen is going to be looking through my things...my clothes are going to get messed up anyway!"

Lysara chuckles lightly at the pout forming on her sister's face as she stuffs more clothes into her case. She couldn't help but roll her eyes as she approaches her sister's case that was no doubt carelessly thrown onto her bed. She unpacked her sister's clothing before folding each item of clothing with care, placing them in a small pile beside the case. Her grey eyes shot to her sister and her lips couldn't help but twitch into a smile at her sister's fierce attitude. _It shall help her in the darker days to come,_ Lysara thought. Her mother hated it when she and everyone else, with the exceptions of Sansa and Septa Mordane, encouraged her Northern spirit. _A wild she-wolf._

"And what of Nymeria? Has she learned any new tricks?" Lysara teased lightly. Arya's face lit up with joy and turns to the pup.

" _Watch,_ " Arya demands while she straightens up her slouching pose and looks to the pup, the pup had its feet placed over a pair of her shoes. "Nymeria. My shoes."

The wolf pup whines loudly, tilting her head to the side in confusion because of the command. Arya orders it of Nymeria once more and then points her foot to the shoes but all the pup does is rest its head upon its paws and whines once more. Lysara smirks, her eyebrows quirking up in amusement. Arya spins around sharply on her heel to face her at the sound of a chortle that she couldn't help but let escape passed her lips at the humorous sight in front of her.

"A wonderful sight to behold." Lysara quips, her smirk widening.

"It is," Arya says sharply before turning her attention back to the direwolf. Her younger, shorter sister straightens her back again and her voice was filled with the same firmness and fierceness as she gives the command, raising her voice louder than it was before but Lysara could sense and hear the frustration in her younger sister's voice as the pup whimpers. "Nymeria, my shoes!"

"What is this?" Lysara asks coolly when she pulls out a long thin cloth and pulls back the coverings to reveal a thin sword and inspects it.

"A sword," Arya says simply but Lysara's eyes grow stern and she turns to face her.

"I know what it is. I am asking why do you have this? _A sword_?" Lysara inquires, before sheathing the sword.

" _Jon,"_ Arya answered vaguely before her tone turned begging as her eyes became pleading. "It's a present. Don't tell anyone. _Please_ , Lysara!"

"I was not planning on telling anyone. This sword was made for _you_ ," She tells her, her voice growing distant as the whispers around her pick up. "You must understand, that this is _no_ wooden sword. This sword will hurt and end the lives of many if wielded correctly. It may not cut a man's head clean off but a man could pick his teeth with it. A _needle_."

"How...how do you know that is what I called my sword?" Arya asked with a gasp, making her way for her quickly.

"I hear things," Lysara responds lightly before she looks down at her sister, with a raised brow. "You must work at swordplay every day, you cannot miss a lesson. Understand? A darkness stirs within any being once a sword is thrust into their hand. What was the first lesson you learned, Arya?"

"Stick them with the pointy end," Arya states.

Her face grows happier as Lysara places the sword in the case but puts it nearer the bottom, making sure it was well hidden and couldn't be seen easily. Lysara wanted to scold Arya about how her cockiness would be the end of her someday but the look on her sister's face, the tears that she refused to let fall and the eyes of a whimpering pup, caused her normal blank face to crack, she looked to her sister with a soft look. Arya jumps up and throws her arms around Lysara's neck and she sniffs loudly. Lysara stumbles back slightly at the ferocity of Arya but returns the embrace back. She wraps her arms around her sister and hugs her back, her hold firm and warm.

"I am going to miss you, she-wolf." Lysara murmurs, biting back her own tears. _This shall be the last time we meet. I will never see you again. If R'hllor is just, he shall let us meet again in another lifetime._

"I'll miss you too," Arya whispered and sniffles at her words.

They remain locked in an embrace for some time but to her, it felt like a lifetime. The scorching heat that radiated from her body gave warmth to Arya's forever cold body. Lysara's eyes flicker towards Nymeria and their eyes lock, grey meeting gold. _You protect her,_ Lysara orders the wolf silently even though she knows that the beast would never understand the pained look in her eyes. Though for a brief moment it seems the wolf nods towards her either that she is growing insane.

"You will write to me!" Arya orders, a sob behind her words. " _You will."_

"I will write. Every waking moment until you grow bored of my letters." Lysara confirms, patting the small girl's back as a form of comfort. Lysara knew that their journey to King's Landing would turn sour, a Lady would be killed as will the hopes and dreams of youth. She wanted to refuse those visions and dreams she received but could not help it. "For the night is dark and full of terrors."

* * *

Lysara held a solemn look on her face as she trails around the grounds of Winterfell until she found her Lord father deep in discussion with King Robert Baratheon. Though she briefly looks on in hidden fear as she sees the look on King Robert's face. The fury that House Baratheon was known for is present in his features. His blue eyes were stormy and thunderous, his lips were pulling into a straight line and his dark brows were furrowed, his entire body rigid.

She hums slightly to draw them away from their harsh whispers and they both turn around to look at her. Eyes of grey land on her, her father gives her a strange look she cannot quite comprehend. Though she decides to ignore this look and makes her way towards them. Her skirts trailing against the stones is the only noise heard other than her steady breath as she reaches her Lord father and the large stag King.

"It is a shame that we could not have spoken sooner, Your Majesty." Lysara begins, flattening her red skirt with her hands. She tried not to feel naked under the King's piercing gaze, as he undressed her with his eyes. King Robert nods slightly, his eyes far off but still staring at her with such an intensity that she could barely handle it but nevertheless continues, "If only I were present during your arrival, Your Grace. I had unfortunately fallen ill during that time. I hope to have not offended you with my lack of graces."

"Nonsense!" Robert exclaims, clasping a firm and on her father's shoulder as he gifts her a large smile. He makes his way further towards her and snatches her hand abruptly, shocking both herself and her father when he plants a large, wet kiss upon her knuckles. He continues to speak though this time his voice is thick with dissatisfaction, "It is saddening to hear you will not be joining Ned and your sisters to King's Landing."

"If I could, Your Grace...I would, but sadly I cannot. My brothers, I cannot leave them in their time of need. Especially my youngest brother, Rickon. And my mother, I am more of use to them here than I am in King's Landing." Lysara states softly, she averts her eyes to the ground in hopes he could move on so she could speak with her father but he doesn't and speaks once more. _My family needs a worshipper of light in the dark times to come._

"You will always be welcome in King's Landing-Perhaps when your dear brother wakes up, you shall change your mind. It is a sight to behold in the Red Keep, I am sure there will be many things to keep your interest. Such as the library, they have many works on myths, legends and of your religion." Robert voices, his words sweet as wine and she immediately caught on. "There is plenty of finery. There are many tournaments and feasts, enough to keep you busy. I could even take you hunting. And I know of a following of that God of yours, they reside within Flea Bottom. Perhaps you will meet them..."

He all but fawns over her, he was making many attempts to have her join him. She knows this. Offering her many tempting things to attract her towards him, to gain her fancy. Unfortunately, she knows that if you strip away all the finery, the silks, the golds and titles. _What do you have left?_ This. A world full of deceit, cunning, trickery and darkness. Lysara couldn't help but feel overwhelmed as he became relentless in his offers, showering her with unwanted attention.

Lysara's downcast eyes flicker up to meet his own and she regrets doing so. There he stands, closer than she is comfortable with, watching her as if she were the last lemon cake on the tray. She stills, unable to speak or think. Lysara nods slowly, giving him a small smile though when she does let her lips form into a smile, she can't read his expression but it changes rapidly when she does.

"I thank you, my King," Lysara says calmly, her voice cool and collected. "Your offer is like no other and I will consider it. _In time."_

"If you wish to leave the morrow, let me know." King Robert replies, his voice strained and deep. "Or if you wish to come later. Write."

"Trust me, Your Majesty-" She begins. "You will be the first to know."

And with that he takes her hand once more, kissing her knuckles. Robert takes a step back and this allows her to look over his large shoulder to look towards her father. He has an expression that is unreadable but as she peers into his eyes, she can see the dark look he is giving the King. The Stag King seemed to notice this as well, shifting slightly on his feet and raises his chin.

 _Multiple,_ Lysara remarks to herself and watches as he folds his arms across his chest. The King left before she could fully take everything that has happened in and briefly thanked R'hllor that nothing _other_ than that happened. Though it dawned on her as to why he gave her such longing looks. _Lyanna._ Lysara knew full well about the love King Robert held for her father's dead sister.

He fought to get her back, but he lost her anyway.

"Lysara. What is it that you need? Is it about your mother or brother? Is Arya alright?" He asks, his voice stiff and tense. _Unnatural,_ she thinks.

"I wish to speak of you about King's Landing-" She starts, her voice filled with hesitancy. "I wish to speak to you about my sisters."

Her father's face softens immensely and he nods for her to come closer. She has never been more frightened of what is to come than she is now, and now that her father and sisters will journey to King's Landing, into the den of liars and lions with serpent tongues, she fears for them. Lysara has become so frightened that every waking moment when the thought creeps up on her, her heart aches and leaps with terror.

"I'm not leaving until the morrow morn, Lysara. There is no need to say goodbye until then." Ned says but she shakes her head, her breath hitching.

"Be _careful_ , father," Lysara warns, grasping at his arm. "You have to be careful. I may not be able to change your mind about leaving but heed this warning. You aren't like me father, you are too trustworthy. Loyalty to _that_ man will be the end of you. Loyalty will kill you. You have to trust no one but yourself, father. _Please._ "

"Lysara. Do not worry about me, I-" Her father begins but is interrupted as Maester Luwin approaches.

"My Lord, Lady Stark requests your presence in Bran's chambers." Maester Luwin explains as her father gives a short and curt nod.

"We will speak later, Lysara. _I promise."_ He vows tears couldn't help but rise in her eyes as he walks along the stone path and disappears into the castle.

"What is troubling you?" Maester Luwin inquires softly, his attention focused on her.

Lysara's breath hitches as she grasps at her chest, finding it difficult to breathe despite feeling her chest rise and fall. Maester Luwin makes his way for her and lays a gentle hand on her shoulder as all she could do was gasp, her throat tightened as more tears fall from her eyes. She thinks of everything that has happened so far since the arrival of the Royals, particularly the Lannister twins and Joffrey. She couldn't help but let out a small sob, unable to regain her breath.

"What's wrong, Lysara?" Maester Luwin asks, concern evident in both his face and voice.

" _I…I can't breathe_ …" Lysara rasps out in panic, before collapsing to her knees just as Maester Luwin catches her.

* * *

" _My brother will never walk again_."

Lysara stares intently at the man, the only sound in the chambers came from the crackling fire. She had long since recovered from what had happened in the yard and felt ridiculous, having acted like a girl rather than a woman. She clasped her hands tightly together resting them over her thighs as she emerged from the shadows. He looked at her over his shoulder and his smirk widened as he turned to face her fully.

"Pray tell, do you think of this as humorous? _Lannister_." Lysara asked impassively, her face blank and her eyes cold as ice.

"Yes, I do." The Kingslayer said as he prowled towards her a smug grin settling on his features. "I don't appreciate whores in my chambers. Leave."

Her eyes went ablaze then, as she had enough of the Lannister's taunts. Anger consumed her and when he grew near enough within her arm length, a sharp crack sounded, the noise echoing throughout his chambers. Ser Jaime's head was thrown to the side with the force of her hand, his lion's mane flew with him. He stood still for a moment and she pondered if she had stunned him with her slap. Lysara could sense his own anger brewing now and she scoffed at it.

"My _brother_ ," Lysara said stiffly, her tone pained as he regained his composure. "You took his _dreams_. He wanted to be a knight. You took his legs and nearly his life, and for what? So that you could fuck that whore you call a sister? Tell me, are you making another bastard son or daughter for the Queen and King?"

Slowly his eyes met her own, all traces of his grin and the smugness that he bore gone. His mouth pressed into a thin line. Lysara's face remained impassive, she would not feel threatened nor fear him easily as everyone else does. He took a few more steps forward, stalking towards her like a lion would do its prey until he was inches from her and leant down slightly to stare at her. While she was taller than most men, he was easily a few inches taller than herself.

"How do you know of such things?" Jaime crooned, his voice mocking. "You know nothing."

"I do know some things," Lysara responds calmly, her hateful grey eyes never leaving his malicious green. "And this, this I do know. You forget, Lannister. I am a worshipper of R'hllor, the Lord of Light and he does not take kindly to his worshippers being threatened. _Nor do I_. I know that you pushed my brother from the tower. I saw you. I saw your shadow."

"You should watch your tongue, my Lady." The blond man begins, his tone threatening. "You never know who may be listening. Some may think you are whoring yourself to me as of this moment. You are in _my_ chambers after all. And I know of your secret as well, Red Priestess. _Jory Cassel._ The boy has probably pined after you from the moment you spread your legs for him. Tell me, how does it feel knowing that you have him wrapped around your finger?...or do you actually care for him, let's see about that when I drive a dagger into him...see how much you care then."

"Do not threaten me, Kingslayer." Lysara laughed coldly, though her laughter held no humour to it. "What shall you do? Shall you throw me from a window as well? Or is it just little boys? I have seen your _death_! And of your children. Gold their crowns, gold their shrouds. And let us not forget your sister Cersei, the Valonqar shall wrap his hands around her neck and choke the life from her. I have seen it all."

Lysara stared at him coolly but was caught mildly by surprise when without any warning or inclination he had her against the door, his hand ghosting over her throat as the other hand slammed next to her face. Lysara remained calm, though, as she stared intently into his steely green eyes. His eyes hesitantly left hers when the candles around the room flickered with life, shadows dancing around the chambers before he turned back to face her with a hidden expression.

"You will pay for this, Jaime Lannister," Lysara said icily, the red in her necklace briefly glowing. "The Lord of Light opposes all who worship false Gods."

"You like to think you are untouchable, don't you?"Jaime inquired, cocking his head to the side as he peered down at her with narrowed eyes. "The Red Priestess of the North. Noble Ned's daughter. Take all those fancy titles away and what are you? You are nothing but a whore who dresses in red." His voice was light as he squeezed her neck gently, he did not cut off her air but it was enough to get his warning across. He would kill her if she made any noise. "You are nothing more than a pretty whore with a title and a dead religion. Yet, you come into my chambers and threaten _me_. You Stark's are all the same. You remind me of your dead uncle Brandon, he made a threat all too similar to the Mad King...look where he is now. Tell me, how do you suppose I will pay?"

"Do you honestly think you will not pay for your sins? You tried to kill my brother…but guess what-" Lysara chuckled darkly, though her voice began to wheeze as he clenched his hand tighter around her throat. She lay a hand on the arm that gripped her neck, staring deep into his eyes. " _He will wake._ It is true. He is dwelling more and more in our realm each day until one day his eyes will be reopened and he will remember. I know he will. My family may not do anything about you lions, but _I will_."

"You are a manipulative whore." Jaime seethed. "You knew this would happen. You know of our fate."

"I do not know of fate. I only know of _destiny._ And only we can control it." Lysara states firmly, though her voice drifted off into a solemn one. "It is a lonely life, to dream of the future untold. To be more powerful than any other you know and you have to live like a shadow because of it. To be a Red Priestess…and you have to pretend to be insane. One day, when the world is ruins and the realm bleeds and the throne is broken. You will recall these past events, you will look upon our meeting and the Lannister pride that you have so greatly will crumble, then you will have nothing...when fire and ice meet...your house will be nothing, your name will be nothing, you will be nothing..."

Swiftly she took his slackening hand from her neck and placed it down to his side. No further words were said between them as she lightly placed a necklace with a ruby dangling on it in his hand, making him clench his fist around it. Lysara pushed him aside, making room to open the chamber door and with a swish of her red cloak, made her way slowly down the hall. It seemed that Ser Jaime made no move to kill her like she had seen him do so in her dreams. _I was meant to die tonight,_ Lysara thinks to herself with a hum as her hand's clasp behind her back when she strolls down the hall.

 _It seems we do control our destiny, after all,_ Lysara hums to herself as she makes her way to her chambers.

* * *

Author's Note: Hi! I'd like to thank all of you for reading my story, for putting it as one of your favourites and for following it. I'd also like to thank everyone who reviewed. And hopefully these chapters don't disappoint. If you have any questions feel free to ask and I'll happily answer them.

Reviews-

JimmyHall24: Thank you, I'm glad you think so. To be honest I've always wanted to read about a sarcastic and sassy, back stabbing oc from Hightower that trolls some of the characters. I think it would be an awesome read.

jno: Thank you! Hopefully you like these chapters!

Guest 1: Thank you! I'm glad you like my story!

Guest 2: Thank you so much, I'm glad you liked the ending. Unfortunately for Lysara, she is going to stay in Winterfell. I wanted to make it a bit different instead of her going down the King's Landing route.

Guest D: Thank you, that means a lot to me. Hopefully these two chapters don't disappoint. I'm glad you like Lysara's strength and personality, I'd like to thank I made her a well rounded oc.

fallondyson: Hopefully you like these two chapters!


	7. Chapter Six

_Winterfell_

Lysara Stark

Lysara sips from her cup slowly, savouring the sweet yet bitter taste of her tea. She lets her eyes flutter close, inhaling deeply as she relishes as it burns the back of her throat. It is as if she was drinking fire. A smirk twitched on her face, forming and spreading across her features as she thinks on the thought. Lysara takes another sip of the tea, before looking across at the fire crackling and roaring with life beside her. She glances at the dancing flames before turning away, her gaze lands on Jory, watching his chest rise and fall as he sleeps soundly. A soft snore or snort erupts from him every so often causing her to laugh slightly. Though her mind grew conflicted, her thoughts turning away from Jory to how she came to be. _R'hllor found me,_ Lysara thinks fondly and lets her fingers glide across the ruby stone in comfort.

The man in the woods seemed like a lifetime ago, it felt like a lifetime ago when she had first seen hope in the fires. Lysara had been lost, no one was coming to rescue and she had no hope left, as the day had since turned to night. It was a long, dark night and the wind was harsh. Lysara was dying, she felt the icy wind and rain stab her skin harshly, it felt as if a thousand needles were being embedded into her skin. She was _dying_ and frightened and no one was coming to save her. Until...until she caught sight of a large fire and a man deep in prayer.

" _O' my Lord of Light, lead us from your darkness and cast your light upon us."_ Lysara murmured, repeating the man's words that remained in her memory, forevermore. " _Fill our hearts with your fire, so that we may walk in your shining path. R'hllor who gave us breath, I thank you. R'hllor who gave us day and takes the savage darkness away, I thank you. Lord of Light who protects us...I thank you."_

A worried look makes its way onto her features as she stands, placing her empty cup down and stretches her limbs, enjoying the ache of her muscles as she does so. She ventures towards the window and looks down at the preparations being made for the journey to King's Landing. Lysara once felt the cold like they do and now she cannot imagine how it feels like. Lysara remains fearful, casting her head over to look at Jory before turning to look out the window as two figures appear in her sight; Jon Snow and Jaime Lannister. She tilts her head and watches them with great intensity, they say little to nothing but then again the dark haired boy wasn't one for conversation. As if sensing her gaze, Jon and then Jaime look up. Her eyes narrow, holding their gazes for a period of time before retreating back to her seat at the fire.

" _R'hllor_." She addresses, her voice hollow and hoarse. "You who cherish the innocent, like that of my brothers and sisters. You who protect us, as the night is dark and filled with terror. _Protect them._ I pray that you will. _Please_ , I have not asked much if anything of you. It was you who found me and guided me into the light, I ask of you to protect my siblings from the terror. I ask of you to guide my brother Brandon back into the light. If you do so, I will strike down the false Gods. And defend your people against the Others."

"Why are you talking to yourself, lover?" Jory grumbled, turning on his side to face her with bleary eyes and waved her over. "Come here. I'm _freezing_."

"That's tough." Lysara retorted, picking up his tunic from the floor and chucked it to him. "You leave for King's Landing."

"Aye, that I do," Jory replied, as he sat up but she stilled when a serious look appeared on his features. "Lysara, can you come here?"

"Do you have to ask?" She questioned pointedly, a smirk forming on her features as she crawled onto the bed. He grasped her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap. He held her by her wide hip with one hand and with the other he reached up and caressed her pale, soft face softly. Lysara stiffened slightly at the strange, foreign look in his eyes. Her gaze widened as he slipped his hand from her face and down to her left breast and held her tenderly. " _Jory_?"

"I will not be in King's Landing forever." He said, his eyes reluctant to meet her own. "...I will be coming back to Winterfell when things settle in King's Landing."

"Aye, I know you will come back to me. You can take the Northerner from the North, but you cannot take the North out of the Northerner." Lysara chuckled, brushing her thumb against his pale lips. "It is known."

"...And...well I was thinking..." Jory trailed off, causing her brows to furrow as he tightened his grip on her ever so slightly.

"Thinking?" Lysara repeated, cocking her head and urging him with a hand to his cheek to say what he was thinking.

"I overheard you and your father talking." He admitted a frown on his face as his wild eyes met hers. "I don't want you to marry some Reach Lord."

"I'm glad you agree with me." She said fondly, stroking his dark locks. "I-

"I want to marry you." Jory interrupted forcefully, causing her to still complete her eyes glazing over as she took in his words. "I know...I know, you do not want to marry. _I know_. You, you are something else Lysara Stark. You are different than any other woman I've met. I don't want a pretty Southern woman to sing me songs nor a gruff Northern woman built for winter. I want _you_. I want my Red Priestess, who dreams and looks into the fires and can see all. I want the woman who growls the creature of direwolf. You were made to be kissed, often and well."

"I..." Lysara began, her expression awe filled as she felt a tear make a trail down her face.

" _Lady Lysara!_ " A voice demanded, a loud knock with it causing them both to startle. "Lady Lysara!"

"Aye?" Lysara asked breathlessly, startled from her trance and scrambled up to her feet and approached the door. "W-What is it?"

"Your mother is requesting you in your brother, Bran's chambers." The man stated, his voice muffled from the thick wood of the door.

"Let me dress," Lysara said hastily, slipping off her robe, letting it pool at her feet as she rushed for her dress, eyeing Jory carefully as he remained still and silent. "Tell my mother, I will be with her shortly. Is that all?"

"Yes, milady." The messenger replied before she could hear his boots thundering down the hall.

Silence followed, except her heavy laboured breaths as she slipped on her corseted crimson dress. Her chest rose and fell quickly, as she slipped on her black boots and looked over her shoulder at Jory. He rose from the bed, causing her to avert her eyes and look into her mirror as she placed her hair into a braid. Her eyes focused on her tired reflection, before landing back on Jory who approached her side, running his fingers down the back of her neck and then placing a hand on her left shoulder. She reached up and grasped his hand in her own.

"I meant what I said," Jory said sincerely. "I will talk to our fathers if you will let me."

"I must go, Jory," Lysara said tiredly, as she stood up but turned and pressed a kiss to his ear. " _Do so._ "

A smile broke out onto his face, as she hurried out of her chambers, closing the door behind her. Lysara turned her head left then right, checking for anyone lingering in the stone, barely lit hall. With no one in sight, she knocked three times on the door as a signal for his safety and with that she made her way down the hall to her brother's chambers.

* * *

" _Bring him back to me."_

"I will mother, I promise."

Lysara tilted her head up, letting the rain land down her face. It had turned to night and the pack was now divided. Her sisters and father were journeying to King's Landing, Jon Snow was heading to The Wall. She let the rain mingle with her tears, as she stared up at the storm that was brewing in the sky. _It will be a long night_ , Lysara remarked to herself. The wind was screaming and hollowing within the woods, as were the direwolves nearby in the kennels.

Lysara knelt by the small pyre she had made in the woods, working feverishly to keep the raging fire continuously stoked. It may have seemed foolish to those afar, that she was attempting to keep a fire burning during a storm. She found herself uncaring for what others thought, she would worship nonetheless.

" _Lord of Light._ " She murmured. "Come to us in the darkness. Cast your light upon my brother, Brandon Stark. Wake him from his darkened slumber, guide me this night with your great wisdom. Show us the way! For the night is dark and full of terror, but you shall burn the terrors away! I will burn the false Gods."

She placed seven wooden statues representing the Seven into the burning fire, that was forever roaring with new found life. The flames sent another spout of cinders and embers crackling upwards, hitting her face lightly. A mere mortal would feel discomfort sitting this close to a fire, yet she remained completely unfazed by it. Lysara's necklace was glowing dimly underneath the light of the fire.

Lysara remained troubled by what her mother had said to her, she was to do whatever it took to make sure Bran would awaken. And she would do just that, she looked down at the dagger in her hand and clenched her hands into fists, allowing the dagger to slice into her hands. She hissed, closing her eyes in pain, but as she dropped the dagger she took to her feet and raised her hand above the growing fire, letting the blood drip into the flames.

She looked down with intensity at the flames, wondering what she may see and there it was. The old visions had faded, new visions came. Like a newborn phoenix arising from the ashes. It worried her, the end days were nearly upon them as winter was coming closer. She had heard tales of many Red Priests and Priestesses seeking out Azor Ahai, reborn anew. _I have already bore witness to him,_ Lysara thought triumphantly. _I ask of him in my fires and I see him._

At last, the flames she so desired reached the right heat and ferocity. Lysara's breath hitched, peering into the heart of the inferno, the storm wiping the fire back and forth along with her hair and dress. There, at the centre of the flame...she saw eyes opening. Whispers filled the air, as she could feel the piercing eyes of the Old Gods on the back of her head but she cared little for them. She could hear the beating of great wings in the darkness. Though with the wind picking up, the howling of wolves caught her attention and she cocked her head to the side, turning to face the stables. And that's when she noticed it... _a fire_.

Lysara picked up her skirts, stalking over to the stables, uncaring for the dying fire she had left behind and was seeking the bigger one coming from what appeared to be the library. She ventured over to the stables and stared inside at the three direwolves prowling and pacing inside, growling and snarling. Summer, Bran's direwolf was the most vicious of the three, ramming himself against the stable doors. The direwolf stilled, his ears twitching before its golden eyes flickered up and met her own.

" _Kill him_." She ordered quietly, her voice barely heard but it seemed Summer had, his ears twitching vigorously as she reached for the lock and unlocked it swiftly, sliding the bolt along. Lysara moved hastily aside, as the doors swung open with the wind and with that Summer bolted into the castle, just as many men and women came out with water to calm the dying fire. " _Protect my brother and mother_."

"Lysara!" A voice yelled, above the chaos. "Lysara!"

Her eyes flickered unfazed to her elder brother, Robb. He looked on at her with narrowed eyes as he strides towards her, his eyes holding anger and worry. Robb's unruly hair lies on his face, covering his eyes slightly as the rain soaks him. She lifts up her skirts and makes her way towards him slowly with Shaggydog and Grey Wind whining and growling at her side. His eyes hands extend and he cups her face, pulling her towards him in a fit of panic.

"What...What were you doing out here?!" He roars, his face falling into one of relief. "You weren't in your chambers!"

"I was praying," Lysara said vaguely.

"I-I...Oh, Gods..." He muttered, resting his hands on her shoulders. "I-I thought you were in the library."

" _I'm alright_." She assured him, as he brushed wet locks that were sticking to her face away.

"You're soaked." Robb sighed before he unfastened his cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. Her eyes remained focused on the fire as it was being put out, she blinked, looking on with uncertainty. Whether it was a trick of the light or not, she could have sworn she saw a boy with silver of hair and purple of eye, staring back at her. " _Let's get you inside._ "

"Aye," Lysara said slowly as he escorted her inside the castle.

"Are you alright?" He pressed on worriedly, cupping her cheek. "You look dazed. You haven't hurt yourself have you?"

"No. I'm fine, I just...I just thought I saw something." She reassured him, meeting his eyes. "I can assure you. _I'm alright_."

"Good. I was-" Robb began, but was interrupted when Theon Greyjoy came hurrying down the hall towards them, his face considerably paling as he approached them.

"Robb...It's your mother and Bran." He panted, trying to regain his composure.

"What of them?" Robb demanded quickly, releasing her and marched towards the dark haired man.

" _They were attacked_."


	8. Chapter Seven

_Winterfell_

Lysara Stark

" _Lysara._ "

She blinks, all she could do was stare up at the burning sky in wonder. All she could do was stare with intensity as the sky blackened with clouds of ash, she watched as the black sky turned a pure gold, as the scalding heat licks her skin. The heat melts away the ice surrounding her, as everything erupts into chaos. The beasts from the skies and land flee and the beasts in the waters are cooked where they swim. Ash falls from the sky, each black flake representing a loss of life. A life lost to the inferno.

Lysara lets the tears fall from her face silently as she hears the screams of men, the wailing of women and the terrified cries of children. Her face, impassive and blank, unable to handle the intensity of what she was looking at. She was numb as she watched the four corners of the word become engulfed in ash and anguish. She looks on as buildings fall, as both high and low born perish. _How did such a world fall to its knees?_ Lysara thought as the fire ate away all life, until only she remained. The world was dying around her, yet she remains untouched staring up at the fire that lit up the world. _Ungodly._ She licks her dry lips that had cracked with the boiling heat and stiffened at the presence she felt behind her.

" _Lysara_."

Lysara's breath hitches and with one last deep breath, she turns around cautiously. She's taken aback when her grey eyes meet a pair of burning indigo eyes. The burning Kingdom behind her fades from her mind as she keeps his stare. _Azor Ahai?_ Lysara asks herself, with a slight shake of her head in denial. He watches her, cocking his head to the side as his eyes fill with curiosity until the boy's eyes finally settled on her face. There was a fierce passion in them but she could see it...it was a flicker dancing in his eyes. _Madness._ Lysara's eyes cannot leave his; his strong, fierce and mischievous eyes dancing with madness.

" _Lysara._ "

"Azor Ahai?" Lysara asks with uncertainty, taking a step forward.

Her eyes leave his own to take in his features. She's graced with an ethereal beauty. He had silver hair, cascading down to his shoulders in unruly curls, his hair glowing gold underneath the fire. His face is even more so, his tanned skin lighting up the features of his face. Her gut warms at the sight, her breath remaining heavy and her eyes steadily narrow as she looks on at him. Lysara falls silent once more, as she takes in his face but it appears he was doing the same, inspecting her features. He steps forward, his light eyebrows raise in a fondness as his hand cups her cheek.

" _Lysara!_ " A small familiar voice screams frantically, snapping her out of her trance temporarily. " _Run!_ "

Lysara finds herself ignoring the voice, keeping her feet grounded as his gaze locks her in his hold. His eyes warm her insides like the fires above and all she could think about was him. She attempts to catch a glimpse of the Son of Fire, at all of Azor Ahai's greatness. Lysara could make out the dark armour, black as coal, that he wore. In a mere moment, she feels nothing but contempt and peace, despite the world that was dying around them.

"Azor Ahai," She breathes softly and closes her eyes, leaning into his warm touch.

Lysara is within his gentle hold and all she can do is watch as she reopens her eyes the fire that forms a circle around them, encasing them. She watches as it nears them but even then, they do not move. The boy, ages with her, gazes at her like her father does her mother. _Like Jory does._ Her eyes grow weary as the fire licks their skin, burning away their clothing but for an unknown reason she does not feel the pain at all. Nor heat. Lysara feels cold.

"No," He speaks up which causes her eyes to widen. "I am not Azor Ahai."

"W-Who are you?" Lysara asks, her face contorting into one of devastation.

" _Aegon."_

Lysara immediately sits up, clawing at her throat, gasping for her air. She looks vigorously around her chambers, her eyes wide and wild as she searches for the boy in her dreams. Her racing heart starts to slow as she comes to the realisation that it was nothing but a dream. A vision gifted to her by R'hllor himself. She shivers, looking to see her furs and covers were knocked to the stone ground, along with some of her pillows. Lysara grasps the ruby on her necklace and closes her eyes as she takes to standing. She wipes a bead of sweat from her sweat slick body and rolls her shoulders, trying to ease off the sleep from her aching muscles.

"Aegon," Lysara murmured and closed her eyes as she approaches her dresser.

Whilst she was grateful that it was a dream, she couldn't comprehend what had happened fully. The dream had felt so... _real_. The heat on her skin, the burning of empires and the way that the boy looked and spoke to her. Lysara had woke from the dream with nothing but disappointment, she had thought that the purple eyed boy was Azor Ahai reborn. _No_ , Lysara denied with a shake of her head as she took out her red dress and slipped it over her head. _He is not Azor Ahai._

"Aegon," She repeated, the name playing on her lips.

The was not the first time she had seen those purple eyes, she had seen the him that night when the library was set on fire, the night her mother and brother were attacked from the shadows. And now, now she had a name to the face she had been longing to see once more. Lysara knew of many Aegon's throughout history, causing her brows to furrow in both confliction and confusion. The violet eyes were still ingrained in her mind, capturing her very soul. _I must be mad,_ Lysara thinks to herself and lets a bitter chuckle escape passed her lips. _Why would I be dreaming of dead dragons?_

* * *

Lysara made her way out her chambers, seeking out her mother. Since the attempt on her brother's life, it seemed it reignited the fierce motherly fire within her mother as when she arrived, she caught her mother giving orders to Maester Luwin. Lysara hitched up her red skirts and briskly walked towards her mother. Her walk slowed, guilt and rage filling when she caught sight of her mother's hands and swallowed, staring intently at the heavily bandaged hands.

"I'll burn their kingdom down for what they have done," Lysara seethed as she tenderly touched her mother's wrist. " _They'll pay._ "

Her mother hushed her, wrapping her into a tight embrace and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. Lysara was certain she would weep, she was close to weeping but bit harshly into her bottom lip, drawing blood. _The Lannister's will pay for their sins,_ Lysara thought darkly as she wrapped her arms around her mother's lower back. She held her mother possessively, keeping her close as she eyed Maester Luwin. _I am the one they will not suspect, I will come and burn their kingdom down like I did within my dream. R'hllor will set all those who oppose him alight._

"They'll pay," Lysara vowed.

"They will," Lady Catelyn promised fiercely, pulling back and examined her features intently. Lysara's prayers to R'hllor had worked well, the shadow was cast from her mother's heart and her brother was on the verge of waking and the assassin was killed. "It's the Lannister's, Lysara. I know it is. No one has believed me."

" _I do._ "

Her mother's eyes widened in surprised, before pulling her back into a firm and fierce embrace. It was rare for herself and her mother to embrace but when they did, no one could part them. A thousand armies could try to and those armies would fall. Lysara pulled away briefly and placed her hands on her mother's shoulders, gripping the light furs wrapped around her mother's neck lightly.

"Your father will know of this," Her mother tells her. "I must go to King's Landing."

"I know-" Lysara began, catching her gaze. "Tell father-A bird mocks you. You have to tell him, you-"

"I will," Lady Stark interrupts. "I promise."

"You have to be careful, mother." She responds, her voice a hushed whisper. "The night is dark and full of terrors."

"Robb rules Winterfell as of now and with him running things, you have to do your duties. Your younger brothers need you, now more than ever. Do you understand, Lysara? I do not want any more of this talk of leaving. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives; family, duty, honour. Those are my words just as they are yours." Her mother said firmly, her face was stern like her eyes and her lips were pressed into a thin line. "Promise me. Promise me that you will not abandon them."

" _I promise, mother_."

Lysara felt a fierceness fill her and it was consuming her whole. _The lone wolf dies but the pack survives,_ the words echoed like a mantra in her thoughts. Her eyes flickered close, her breath rising and falling slowly as she concentrated deeply on her father. _I am not my father, I understand how the game shall be played._ Lysara pursed her lips, reopening her eyes to look to her mother.

"I must tell you something," Lysara said as her eyes averting to Maester Luwin. " _Alone_."

Her mother nodded to the Maester, whom hastily left with various other servants that were present in the cold hall. Lysara remained cool and collected, grasping her mother's upper arm and gently tugged her towards the end of the hall. _I must tell her,_ Lysara thought with great guilt and hesitancy. _I should have told them sooner...but I couldn't...they would have died. The Lannister's would have had us executed._

"Mother...I have to tell you something-" She began, her voice wavering as she clasped her hands together. "You may not like what you are about to hear..."

"I'm your mother, you can tell me anything," Lady Catelyn assured her.

"I know who pushed Brandon from the tower. _I saw him_...I saw Jaime Lannister," Lysara informed her and watched as her mother's stern face contorted into one of anger. "In my dreams, I dreamt of Brandon. I seen that he was pushed from the broken tower in my dreams...that is how I was able to come across him. I later checked the tower...I found a necklace..."

"A necklace..." Her mother repeated slowly, before her eyes shot up to her own. "Where?"

"I confronted the Kingslayer," She confessed. "I returned the necklace to him as a warning. It was Cersei's necklace. The Lannister's live a lie."

"N-No..." Her mother murmured, turning on her heel to face the table as she shook her head in denial. "No..."

"Yes," Lysara pressed. "I'm sorry, mother. The Lannister twins, they pushed Brandon from the tower. They-"

"No!" Her mother roared, throwing her arms across the table, knocking everything from it causing her to startle.

"It is true." Lysara informed her coldly, staring ahead. "Jaime Lannister had my brother pushed from the very tower he and his sister committed incest in. Brandon caught them in the act which spurred the action from Jaime, in an act to keep their relations secret. I do not know how long they have been in a relationship for but I do know for a fact that Robert's children...aren't Robert's children. They betrayed the King. Father must deal with them before it is too late for him to do so. He must put them to death-"

She felt it before she could hear it or see it. The sharp sting of a slap, she looked on ahead blankly at the doors to the hall, her head had been thrown to the side because of it. Lysara slowly turned back to face her panting mother's, who's eyes were filled with rage. She regained her impassive composure, straightening her back and clasped her hands behind her back as she stared at her mother with a lightly lifted brow.

"Your father is a man of honour!" Lady Catelyn stated, her tone fiercer than ever. _It could rival a she-wolf's growl._ "We are treading on dangerous ground, Lysara. It is bad enough that I know a Lannister was involved in the attempted murder of my son, _twice_. And now you throw all sorts of accusations. This isn't a child's game, this is a dangerous game we are playing, Lysara!"

"I am not Eddard Stark. I am not my father," Lysara spoke after a long period of silence. Her eyes were serious and cold. "I understand the way this game will be played. I will do everything that I can to protect our family. Do you think I am throwing these accusations around because I can? I know this because he told me. I took it upon myself to confront him. I may have died in the process but I would care little for that because this is what protecting my blood...our family is! We need to rip out the bed of weeds by the root, one by one, before they strangle us in our sleep! My father is a man of honour, I am not. And if I am to be in this world a little while longer, then I will do whatever it takes to protect my family. I will do R'hllor's bid and burn the false Gods."

* * *

Lysara leaned over to a candle placing the long lit match on the wick of the candle, letting the candle flicker to life. She continued to light many candles, looking over ever so often to Brandon and Rickon. Lysara turned back to face them and saw her youngest brother fidget where he stood, unable to stand still for a long period of time. He was too little and too bored to understand the importance of standing by Bran's bedside. Lysara's lips twitched slightly as she pinched the burning and blackening match and made her way towards Rickon.

Lysara bent down and hoisted Rickon into her arms, taking the seat at the bedside and set him on her lap. She threaded her fingers through his unruly hair, combing out the tugs and knots of his curly hair with her nails. Lysara hummed a soft song, bouncing him up and down on her lap before she let the squirming Rickon rest on her lap, his head lying on her chest.

"How about I tell you a story, little pup?" Lysara offered, looking down at him.

"No," Rickon denied, shaking his head. "I want Bran. I want mother."

"Our brother will wake," Lysara reassured him as an idea formed in her mind. "How about we pray to him? Or sing?"

"Can we sing?" He asked eagerly, his head tilting up to look at her with interest.

"Of course, wild wolf." She replied.

It was only when her eyes flickered back to the sleeping Bran, she jumped, clutching onto Rickon tightly. Her grey eyes met a pair of big, blue solemn eyes. Lysara stilled but snapped out of her daze, setting the small boy down with haste. She spun Rickon around to face her and gripped his chin lightly, lifting his head up so that their eyes met.

"Rickon," She spoke softly. "Rickon, I need you to go and fetch Maester Luwin and Robb. Can you do that for me? Tell them that Bran's awake. You have to tell them this, okay? It's important."

Rickon nodded, understanding the urgency and firmness of her tone. He may not have understood fully what was going on, but her tone said it all. Her little brother scurried out of the room, Shaggydog in tow. The direwolf cast her a glare before he padded behind his master. Rickon ran out of Brandon's chambers as fast as his short, little legs would carry him. Lysara hesitantly looked back to Bran as she cautiously took his hand in her own and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

"Brandon."

"I-I...Lysara...I can't feel my legs..." Bran stammered weakly, panic and fear rising in his tone. "Why can't I feel them?"

"Hush," Lysara murmured and reached over and brushed the curls, that were sticking to his sweaty face away. "I-"

As Lysara was about to comfort him, Robb had stormed into Bran's chambers with Rickon at his heels. Her eyes flickered behind him in search for Maester Luwin and she let out a soft sigh. _He forgot._ Her older brother paid her little to no attention as he moved to Bran's bedside and took a seat on the edge of the bed, looking down intensely at their younger brother.

"How are you feeling?" Robb inquired.

" _I saw you_ ," Bran croaked. His eyes met her own, causing them to widen. _He remembers._ "You were in my dreams."

"I was?" Lysara asked, feigning surprise. "You must tell me of it."

Brandon struggled to sit up but he managed to shakily prop himself onto his elbows, though his legs refused to move. Lysara recalled Maester Luwin stating that he would never be able to use his legs again nor would he have any feeling in them. Her heart ached for her little brother, knowing that she would be the one to deliver the news. The unbearable look of despair on Robb's face confirmed that he couldn't tell him and as for Maester Luwin, she wouldn't leave such a responsibility to the kindly man. He cared for her family as much as she did. Lysara reached out to touch her brother but he recoiled, glancing to her as if she were a stranger.

"Where's mother and father?" Bran demanded. "What happened?"

"You fell," Lysara answered truthfully. "Can you recall anything before your fall?"

Lysara looked at him intensely, searching for any trace of a lie in his eyes as he shook his head. She briefly looked up to Robb, as they both shared a cold and dark look. She placed a soft but false smile on her face for younger brother and leaned down to him, planting a tender kiss to his forehead.

"Do you remember anything?" Robb pressed. "Anything at all?"

"No," Bran answered vaguely, transfixed on his legs.

" _Strange,_ " Lysara remarked softly. "I hope you remember soon."

"I...I...Why can't I feel them?" Brandon asked, tears pooling in his eyes as he looked up to her desperately. "Lysara...I can't feel them!"

Lysara swallowed the hard lump that was present in her dry throat as she watched the useless attempts of her younger brother as he tried to move his legs. He suddenly, in a fit of anger and pain began to relentlessly hit his legs as he cried, tears falling from his face. She quickly reached over while hushing him, grasping onto his wrist and pulled them away from his legs. Their eyes met and with that he began to cry loudly. Lysara closed her eyes, climbing onto the bed and lay next to her brother, wrapping her arms around his body and pulled him to her chest, allowing him to sob into her neck and hair. Uncaring for the blunt nails that he dug into her pale flesh.

Lysara let everything fade into the background as she stared impassively towards the burning candles, the sobs of her brother echoing loudly and dauntingly in her eyes. She clutched him tighter, staring on at the dancing flames with nothing but vengeance and fire left in her beating heart.

* * *

Author's Note: Hey! I'd like to thank everyone for reading my story, for putting it as one of your favourites and for following it. I'd also like to thank everyone who has left a review And hopefully this chapter doesn't disappoint. If you have any questions, feel free to ask!

Reviews-

celticank: Thank you so much, hopefully you like this update! I'm glad you think that about Lysara. As for helping Robb with the war, she isn't going to. Her story line without revealing anything, points her more to beyond the Wall. As for R+L=J, you'll have to wait and see...


	9. Chapter Eight

_Winterfell_

Lysara Stark

"They will _pay_ for this," Lysara vowed as she sipped at her wine. "They will know of the meaning _fire_ and _blood_ when I am done with them."

"You are a Targaryen, Lysara." Theon drawled, causing her to look over her shoulder at him with narrowed eyes.

"No. A Targaryen, I am not. I am however a sister, a sister who worshipper's R'hllor." Lysara stated firmly, her voice turning cold and she placed her wine on the table before turning to face Theon. "Brandon, they shattered his hopes and his dreams. He wanted to go to King's Landing, he wanted to be a _knight_...his fate has been changed all because _they_ wanted a simple, discreet fuck. My little brother cried throughout the night, he hit and he hit at his legs, never to feel them. He was _clawing_ at his skin in an attempt to gain feeling once more within them. They deserve everything that I will do to them."

"He _will_ survive. You Stark's aren't only hard to kill but you Stark's are a stubborn lot too," Theon tells her.

"Thank you, Theon," Lysara responds.

"I don't mean to pry-" Theon leers. Lysara stiffens at his voice, sensing an oncoming jest as he hands the letter to her. "But who's your secret admirer?"

"Robert Baratheon," She sarcastically informs him but by the look of horror on his face, he thought of it as the truth, causing her to sigh deeply. "I was jesting, Theon. It is in fact, Arya who writes to me. Though it should not concern the likes of you who writes to me."

"Right..."He trailed off before she dismissed him.

Theon bowed before leaving her chambers. Her eyes averted back to the letter he had delivered to her, she folded it and placed it in between a crack in the wall of her chambers. The same gap between the stones next to her bedside where she keeps all her valued secrets. Lysara hummed slightly before lifting up her red skirts in her hands and made her way out of her chambers and down to her younger brothers. She entered the icy chambers only to see that Robb was already present. Robb turned to face her and stood rigid. Lysara raised a brow, giving him a sidelong glance before she tucked in her skirts and sat on the edge of the bed near their brother.

"I'm sorry I kept you up last night," Brandon says and looks up at her with solemn eyes.

"Do not dwell on the past, Bran," Lysara assured him, brushing back the curls on his forehead to take in his features. "I do not tire easily. A fire burns within me."

"You're so warm," Bran mumbled, his voice wavering as he leant into her touch.

"Do you recall anything?" Lysara inquired, raising an eyebrow and ignored the look that Robb was giving her.

"No," Bran denied with a shake of his head. "All I know is that I fell. Robb believes me."

"Does he now?" She questioned, looking up to face Robb. "I have watched you climb for years and years, in all conditions and you have climbed every building in Winterfell, even the trees. I remembered seeing you fall that day. Do you know what my thoughts consisted of?" Lysara stilled, looking to see Bran listening intently to every sly word she spoke. "I thought, _he never falls._ And you have not, not even a mere slip of your foot. I have watched you climb many a time...shadows tend to play tricks on the mind, don't they?"

"Lysara, I _did_ fall," Bran said bitterly as she places a hand in his own. "I'm a _cripple_. Can't you see? I'm _useless_!"

"You may be crippled-" Lysara began as Robb tried to speak. "You may not be able to walk but you are not useless. You will _never_ be useless."

"I can't do anything now," Bran muttered and sniffed loudly, trying to hold back tears.

"No, don't say those things. You _can_ do things," Robb encouraged weakly, though she could see the conflict present in her older brother's pained blue eyes. He too knew that Bran had wanted to become a knight. "You are a Stark. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Together, we can do _anything_. If you want to try something...then we sure as hell will try."

"I'd rather be dead," Brandon snarled causing Robb to stiffen.

"Don't _ever_ say that," Robb threatened, taking a seat on the edge of the other side of the bed.

"I'd rather be dead," He repeats. Her face grew impassive and she took to standing then, staring down at him coldly.

"If I were you, Brandon Stark-" Lysara began icily, "I'd stop feeling sorry for yourself. "And if you ever dare say those words in my presence ever again, I will not hesitate to lay a hand upon you. How dare you-" She stilled, at the panicked and pleading look Robb shot her causing her tone to soften. "R'hllor has chosen this fate for you, has chosen this life for you because you are _strong_ enough to live it. If you survived the fall, that means he has greater plans for you. I will allow for you to scream, I will allow for you to cry and weep about how unfair it is...but you do _not_ give up."

"...Leave me alone," Bran wept, avoiding her gaze.

"So be it," Lysara said her face hardening. "Come, Robb."

Robb sucked in a shaky breath, confliction heavy on his mind, heart and features as he looked at her and their upset brother. He sighed, standing up from the bed and followed her out of Brandon's chambers, closing the door quietly behind them. Lysara clasped her hands behind her back as they made their way down the hall but he stilled and turned to face her, his blue eyes cold and narrowed as he stared at her.

"How could you say that to Bran?" Robb demanded, anger evident in his tone.

"Robb. He was serious," Lysara reasoned, her voice growing into a harsh whisper. "He cannot give up. It is vital he doesn't. He is not yet used to his new life but he will eventually have to deal with it like we all will. He was acting as if he was the only one to suffer, while he slept peacefully, Winterfell was in turmoil and now he just...he just wants to give up. No, that is not happening. I won't allow nor let that happen. Lady Catelyn, our mother, risked _her_ life to save _his._ He does not get to die. _Ever_."

"Lysara, he wasn't being serious!" Robb snarled quietly. "He said it because he was just-"

"Robb, Brandon was _serious_. The words he spoke were true," She bit sharply. "You did not see the look in his eyes. You-"

"Enough, Lysara. Either tend to Rickon or I will confine you to your chambers," Robb warned insincerely, before stalking off down the hall.

Lysara scoffed, looking on at his retreating figure with a blank expression before her eyebrow slowly arched as a smirk appeared on her face. She often felt sorry for her elder brother Robb, he couldn't even stand by his threats. _All bark and no bite,_ Lysara remarked to herself as she made her way down the hall towards Rickon's chambers.

* * *

Lysara took a seat next to Robb, mindful of Grey Wind who was lying underneath the table, beneath their feet. Maester Luwin had requested that she come to the great hall on Robb's behalf, upon asking Maester Luwin 'why'. He responded with a man's name. _Tyrion Lannister._ Lysara kept an ever present smirk on her face as she looked on to the doors of the great hall over the rim of her goblet, that was filled half way to the top with wine. She knew that Tyrion had no hand in neither Bran's fall nor attempted assassination. He was a man of many things but a child killer, he was not. _He will dwell deeper into danger each passing day,_ Lysara remarked to herself.

The doors to the hall opened wide and Tyrion entered the hall, followed by men of the Night's Watch. Lysara could feel Robb stiffen beside her and could feel his temper steadily rise, she knew his temperament would someday be the death of him. Lysara placed her goblet back down on the table after she had downed her wine in two mouthfuls. She kept silent, waiting and watching to see how everything would unravel.

"I must say, I received a _slightly_ warmed welcome on my last visit," Tyrion began, glancing at her.

"Any man of the Night's Watch is welcomed at Winterfell," Robb stated coldly. Lysara glanced at him from the corner of her eye. _Careful, Robb._

"Any man from the Night's Watch but not me, eh boy?" Tyrion questioned, peering up at him.

"I am not your boy, Lannister," Robb seethed, gritting his teeth. "I am the Lord of Winterfell while my father is away."

"Now, now, Robb-" Lysara advised softly, though her voice held a hint of warning. "Is it not best to show our _guest_ some graciousness?"

"Your sister is right," Lord Tyrion piped up, tilting his head towards her. "You should learn a Lord's courtesy."

Lysara gave the lion man a curt nod, causing his lips to uplift into a smirk only angering Robb greater than he already was. She knew that everything that he was doing from his movement to his words would irk Robb to no end and by the looks of it, Lord Tyrion knew of it too. It seemed he only had to breathe to irritate her brother. Robb's eyes grew colder as he glared at bother herself and the lion man. A silence fell across the hall as they could hear the thundering footsteps of Hodor. The door opened and her gaze fell on Bran, carried by the simple giant with Theon trailing slightly behind them.

"It is true them," Tyrion remarked, though it seemed it was mostly to himself. His eyes widened slightly as Hodor approached him with Bran. "Hello, Bran. Do you remember anything of what happened?"

"He has no memory of that day," Maester Luwin answered causing her to nod.

"Brandon claims he cannot remember," Lysara adds casting a glance to Bran before her grey eyes fall back on Tyrion.

"Curious," Tyrion remarked.

" _Indeed_ ," She responds lightly, causing his eyes to land on her. He stared at her intently before his gaze turns to Robb.

"Why are you here?" Robb asked stiffly, clenching his hands on the table.

"Would your companion be so kind as to kneel?" Tyrion requested, ignoring Robb's hostile question as he focuses on Bran. "My neck is starting to hurt."

"Kneel Hodor," Bran commanded. Hodor did so without hesitation, fumbling to his knees with a thud so that Bran and Tyrion were facing each other.

"Do you like to ride, Bran?" The blond haired man questioned.

"Yes, I do," Bran said eagerly before his features slipped into one of disappointment and sadness. "I mean...I _did_ like riding."

"The boy has lost the use of his legs," Maester Luwin stated.

"What of it?" Tyrion scoffed, causing her brow to raise. "All he needs is the right horse and saddle. Even a cripple can ride."

"I'm not a cripple," Bran protested as Robb bristled at her side.

"You _are_ Brandon," Lysara said firmly. "You cannot defy it anymore."

"If you're not a cripple, then I am not a dwarf. My father would rejoice to hear it!" Tyrion exclaimed. He reached into his pocket and handed Brandon a rolled up piece of parchment. "I have a gift for you. You give this to your saddler, he will surely be able to provide the rest for you."

" _I_ thank you," Lysara said sincerely before correcting herself. " _We_ thank you, Tyrion Lannister."

"You do not need to thank me," Tyrion said and waved her 'thanks' off dismissively.

"Will I truly be able to ride?" Bran asked, his face falling into one of awe.

"Yes, You will," Tyrion vowed his promise firm. "You will be as tall as any man upon horseback."

Lysara knew from the moment she saw the little lion man there was more to the Lord than tits and wine and as of now, he had proven it to her without even realising it himself. She let a small, soft smile appear on her face she looked on at Bran's ecstatic face. It was the youthful, innocence he held on his face that made her grow fond of Tyrion. Lysara turned to face Robb but saw that he was still unconvinced by Tyrion, merely because the man's last name was 'Lannister'. Her eyes went ablaze as angered filled her that he did not share the same happiness that she held for their younger brother.

"Is this some sort of trick?" Robb demanded, "Why do you want to help him?"

"I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards and broken things," Tyrion replied honestly. _Jon and Brandon._

"Lord Tyrion," Lysara began. "May I ask of you about Jon? How is he?"

"Your bastard brother? He's fairing well if I do say so myself," Tyrion answers with a slanted smile. "A little homesick I think but I assume that it's normal."

"I thank you, Lord Tyrion. You have shown us nothing but kindness, the hospitality of Winterfell is yours. You may drink, eat and sleep your fill," Lysara said formally.

"Thank you, Lady Lysara. Though I doubt I will be fully welcomed. I am afraid your brother would not be pleased with my stay," Tyrion informed her with a shake of his head.

Lysara could feel Robb relaxing into his chair. Her eyes narrowed instantly as Tyrion excused himself saying that he would rather go to a brothel outside of Wintertown instead of staying in her home. She wanted to feel insulted but she could not blame him. After Tyrion Lannister's departure, everyone eventually emptied the hall leaving both her and her elder brother alone. The air was tense around them and she was certain that there would be a crack if someone was to cut into the air near them with a sword.

"I cannot believe you," Lysara hissed after a long period of silence between them. "Do you know how that makes _you_ look? How it makes us look? He'd rather go to a whore house than stay here."

"You offered him our hospitality when it wasn't yours to give!" Robb spat, his voice rising.

"Did you not see what unfolded right in front of our eyes? He showed Bran kindness!" She argued, digging her nails into the wood of the table. "We would be fools not to offer a _Lord_ hospitality, despite how you perceive them. This is how enemies are made. You should be glad that he did not take offence. You should be glad that he is not that sort of man. If it were any other man, take Lord Frey for example, he would have had you run through!"

"It was Lord Tyrion that pushed Bran from the tower!" Robb snarled. His voice like thunder and her voice like lightning in the hall as they both rose from their seat at the same time. "I know it was. Why else would he give him a gift? He must have pushed him from the tower. It was his blade that was used to try and kill our mother and Bran! The guilt must have got to him!"

"Robb-" Lysara started, her voice growing weak. "It wasn't him...I know it wasn't."

"You act as if you were the one to push Bran from the tower," Robb tells her, turning his back to her.

"...If you will pardon me, my Lord. I need to go and tend to our brothers," She said, ignoring the whispers that she could hear.

Lysara tried to ignore the words he spoke, not wanting him to know how much they hurt her. She picked up her skirts in her trembling hands and trailed down the steps, making her way towards the door with a small sigh. A cough echoed throughout the hall causing her to stop in her tracks and she slowly turned back to face Robb, who was facing her once more and was staring at her with a softness only her auburn haired siblings could possess. She, Arya and Jon did not possess such a softness. Not like Robb, Sansa, Bran and Rickon.

"I'm glad you aren't in King's Landing," Robb admitted softly though his voice was barely heard but she managed to catch on. "Rickon needs you. Bran needs you... _I_ need you."

"You need me?" Lysara scoffed, looking on at him in disbelief.

"Aye, I do-" He retorted before his face turned cold once more. " _Winter is Coming."_

 _"Winter isn't coming-_ " She spoke, her cold voice carried with the icy wind that had found its way into the hall when she opened the door. " _Winter is already here."_

* * *

 _Author's Note: Hey guys, hopefully you like chapter's eight and nine. I'd like to thank everyone for reading my story, for putting it as one of your favourites and for following it. I would also like to thank everyone who has left a review, your reviews mean a lot to me. If you have any questions, feel free to ask!_

 _Reviews-_

 _TheShadowRayven: Thank you so much, it means a lot to me that you think so!_

 _Cxf: Thank you, hopefully these chapters don't disappoint!_

 _Guest D: Thank you, I am so glad that you are enjoying this story and haven't been able to figure out the plot fully yet. I wanted to have a sort of hint of mystery to this story because of who she is as a character because even though it might be her point of view, she does tend to lie to herself and the reader's as well. I'm glad you like my portrayal of Lysara and I'm relieved to hear that the character's aren't ooc, I try to keep each character along with my own in character. You have kind of caught me out with linking the story to beyond the Wall, without giving too much away. I felt that the magic and mystery (plus danger) beyond the Wall is so important and not many stories include it._

 _celticank: Hopefully you like Chapter Eight and Nine! Lysara won't stop the Red Wedding, it will remain canon. Though she will and has hinted a few times that she knows about it but she will be with Bran._


	10. Chapter Nine

_Winterfell_

Lysara Stark

" _Lysara_."

Lysara blinked, her surroundings coming back to her. She couldn't get rid of the dream that was lingering, she couldn't get rid of the piercing purple eyes out of her head nor his voice. A thud drew her attention away from the letter that she was staring at to Theon, practising his archery. Lysara grasped a dark brown lock that was curling in front of her eyes and placed it behind her ear as she stared intently at the Kraken.

Robb was with Ser Rodrik, no doubt discussing important matters. It had been two weeks since Lord Tyrion had left Winterfell and Robb had thought their mother would be home by now but she knew that wasn't the case. Her youngest brother Rickon was with Old Nan and she was in the courtyard watching over Brandon's lessons with Maester Luwin. She raised her brows in anticipation as Theon fired another arrow and watched as it landed dead centre. Maester Luwin's voice drew her attention back to him and Brandon's lesson. It seemed that she was not the only one that was distracted by Theon. Her brother was too, he held a look longing on his face and stared at Theon as he reloaded his bow with an arrow.

"Brandon-" Lysara chided. "Pay attention."

This seemed to bring her younger brother out of his trance, his brow furrowed before he turned his attention to her briefly with a confused look before Maester Luwin called on him once more. Lysara let curiosity take over and craned her neck to see that Maester Luwin was teaching Bran to identify a map of Westeros and its houses, both houses that have fallen and risen. She shook her head before returning back to Arya's letter, despite the childish scribbles of her younger sister, the news disturbed her the more she read it.

 _Lysara,_

 _It's horrible! The Queen's horrible! The King's horrible! Joffrey's horrible! Sansa's horrible! I hate them. All of them! I wish you were here, Lysara. You would have stopped it. Joffrey had attacked my friend so I attacked him, it ended with Nymeria biting him...but only a little, I still hope it hurt him, though. I hate the Queen the most, she sentenced Lady to die when Lady never did anything wrong!_

 _I like King's Landing...it's okay. Father says I could take up sword lessons, I do as you say and I listen to every lesson I get from Syrio Forel. I have to chase cats all the time as one of my lessons...but it's fun! I have nearly caught all of the cats besides one. I decided to name it after you. Sara, I call it. It's a cat with dark fur and red eyes. It reminded me of you a bit. I had asked father today if he was going to send you a letter too but he says it would make you happier if I did!_

 _I'll see you soon!_

 _Arya._

 _I forgot to ask you: Do you reckon you could place a curse on Joffrey?_

Lysara lets a chuckle escape her lips as she read the end of the letter. She was beginning to contemplate on what Arya had requested, perhaps she could send the Lord of Light's relentless wrath his way. _The boy would piss his pants at the mere sight,_ Lysara remarked to herself, humming slightly as she pinched the folded letter between her fingers and tucked it into the sleeve of her dress. Though despite the light at the end of the letter she thought back to the darker part of the letter. _Lady_. Her dream made sense now than it did last night. Her father did not kill her, he killed Lady.

"The Iron Islands," Bran stated, drawing her attention back to her brother who was staring at the map of Westeros. "Their sigil, a Kraken. And their words; We do not sow."

"And their Lords?" Maester Luwin questioned as Bran glanced over to Theon.

"The Greyjoys," Her brother answered which made her lips twitch into a small smile.

"Famous for their skills at archery, navigation and of course... _lovemaking,_ " Theon drawled, turning to face them with a smug smirk permanently etched onto his features. He looked her way and winked in her direction causing her to scoff at the prospect. She let out a dry and fake laugh, causing him to throw his head back and laugh loudly. Lysara shared a look with Maester Luwin.

"And for failed rebellions," Maester Luwin retorted.

A satisfied smirk appeared on her face as she saw the smugness in Theon's face dramatically fade. He wasn't amused by the remark and when Maester Luwin turned his own and Bran's attention back to the map of Westeros, he pretended that he was shooting at the Maester. She gave him an amused glance before facing Bran, who continued with his studies. Lysara sneered inwardly when he got to House Lannister and her mind instantly went to the Lannister twins. She was glad that he did not know of their words. _Serpent's words._

"Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken..." Bran trailed off, a look of uncertainty in his eyes.

"House Martell," Lysara informed him as his brows furrowed further in both agitation and confusion.

"Fire and Blood," Her brother replied.

It became clear to her then that her younger brother did not even care to try anymore. She could feel the tension from him. _Let R'hllor take your darkness,_ Lysara prayed dutifully as she kept her eyes firmly trained on Brandon. _And let him cast his light down upon you once more._ She could see the familiar bitterness appear in his eyes and she was reminded once again that the Lannister twins would pay for what they have done to him and what they would do to her family.

"House Targaryen," She corrected.

"Family. Duty. Honour," Brandon said angrily, clenching his jaw.

"Those are your mother's words. House Tully," Maester Luwin stated firmly.

"Family. Duty. Honour. Is it even in the right order?" Bran questioned sardonically.

"You know it is," The Maester says, as their eyes meet and they both share a worried glance.

"Family-" Her younger brother began, his voice growing cold as the icy winds of Winterfell and his face hardened with each word. "We are meant to come first, are we not?"

"Brandon," Lysara bit sharply, eyeing him carefully. "You ought to know that our mother left Winterfell was to protect _you_. To protect _us_."

"Lady Catelyn left to protect the family," Maester Luwin explained, a tad kinder and gentler than she.

"How can she protect the family, if she isn't with her family-" Bran began, but she interrupted him.

"You are not being reasonable," Lysara snapped. "Mother stayed by your side for a moon's worth."

" _She left_!" Brandon seethed as her face turned sour.

Lysara rose from her seat, her face turning impassive and turned as he opened his mouth once more. She lifted her skirts and decided for her sake and her brother's that she would take a stroll in the woods nearby Winterfell to calm herself. _I have never once raised a hand to my siblings,_ Lysara thought coldly casting a cold glance over her shoulder to her brother as she walked away. _And I will not start now._

Lysara heard footsteps approach from behind her and turned around on her heel swiftly to meet with a stable hand running for her, a letter clutched tightly in his hold. Her lips and brows frowned as she made her way to the brown haired boy and took the letter from his sweaty hold, inspecting the writing. _Mother,_ Lysara concluded as she recognised the delicate hand.

"A raven-" The boy panted, "A raven from your, my Lady."

"Thank you," Lysara thanked, reaching into the pocket of her red dress and passed him a coin. "Here."

"Thank you, my Lady!" He chirped, his face lighting up as he grasped the coin tightly in his hand before running off back to the stables.

Lysara took her sharp nail and dragged it along the seam of the letter, breaking the black wax seal. She unfolded the letter and her face turned grim, the harsh whispers becoming present in the air. Her mother's letter was not by any means good news, she had written to her of Tyrion Lannister and the blade. Her mother wrote that she was wrong in accusing the Lannister twins when it was, in fact, Tyrion as the blade belonged to him. _Mother's wrong,_ Lysara thought furiously. _It was them. I heard them. I saw him. I found the necklace. The Kingslayer admitted it._ Her mother was now residing in the Eyrie and had taken him as her prisoner to Lysa Arryn.

 _You are the keeper of my secrets. You cannot tell anyone of these words. No one. Not Maester Luwin nor Robb. You must keep this a secret._

Lysara's breath hitched, she could not fathom the fact that her mother had taken Lord Tyrion to the Eyrie. To her aunt, Lysa Arryn. In the ten and six years that she has lived, Lysara has only met her aunt three times. Once when she was three not that she had remembered much, the second time she was taken was when she was eight and the third time when she was ten and one. Her eyes narrowed, her aunt had once told her she would fit perfectly in the Eyrie. It was an elegant and peaceful place. Her aunt was also doting and was prideful over the fact that she was named after her. Lysara knew the truth behind the woman's motives when she grew wiser, she had seen it in her aunt's eyes. _Marriage._

Lady Lysa was a stricter and sterner woman than her mother and did not hold a candle to her mother's beauty, her many years in the Vale hardened her aunt. It was not until after many years of trying, that she had finally given birth to a boy. Robert, or more commonly known as Robin. Sweet Robin was now eight from one of the many frequent letters she received from her aunt Lysa. Lysara still wondered if the manic woman still breastfed him.

In truth, everyone knew including herself that her sickly cousin was not long for this world and as the years became darker, her aunt quickly turned paranoid. Her cousin was the sole heir and Lord of the Vale after all. Lysa had discovered her abilities as a Red Priestess and this twisted obsession the woman somehow had on her grew, the woman was determined that she would one day become the wife of her son despite her being eight years his senior. Lysara had to suppress a shudder then at the mere thought of it.

Lysara looked to the grey clouds swirling in the sky and smirked. She shook her family from her thoughts and thought on R'hllor. It was normal for her to pray and sing to R'hllor beside the fire within her chambers but she could sense that tonight would be a perfect night to dance around the fire. Her powers were weakened, though she also took that as exhaustion taking its toll on both her body and mind. A fire dance is what she desired. _I need to see more than mere glimpses,_ Lysara remarked to herself.

Lysara had made her way back to her chambers and tucked the letter up her sleeve, keeping it close to Arya's, she hoped that burning them would give her a more clear insight as to what was happening. As she entered her chambers she found Rickon sat on her bed with a sleeping Shaggydog at his side. Her lips twitched into a soft smile before she glanced at the food. _Luncheon,_ Lysara thought just as her stomach made a noise of protest from lack of food. She did not doubt that he most likely carried it to her chambers himself. Lysara made her way towards him and sat beside him on the bed, picking up a honey cake and eyed Rickon as she bit into it.

"Lysara?"

"Yes, my wolf pup. What is it?" Lysara asked, as she stuck out her tongue slowly and licked the honey from her sticky lips.

"Are you okay?" Rickon asked innocently as he too picked up a cake and devoured it.

"I am alright, my wild wolf." She lied, who thankfully accepted her answer.

* * *

The fire drew her in. It wasn't just the warmth of the rising flames, it was the whispers that came along with the dance. The night had come, cold and harsh as promised, the winds allowed for the fire to grow fiercer. Lysara looked into the flames as she made around the fire, she could feel the scorching heat of the fire create sweat, that trickled down her skin. The sweat beaded on her forehead, between her breasts and down her spine. Her chest was heaving and her lips parted to suck in the cold air. Her eyes grew hazy and she found herself unable to look away from the flames.

" _The King of the North!_ " Voices roared, causing her trance to break.

She stilled, wondering if it was some mere trick on her ears. Lysara knelt by the flames, placing her hands on the dry ground and stared intently at the fire that once danced with her. Her eyebrow arched softly as the whispers picked up with the wind. Lysara gasped as she saw her siblings in the flames and watched in awe as they took the shape of animals. _Of direwolves._ Howls echoed throughout the woods as the winds battered against her fiercely causing the fire to hiss as the rain started to fall from the dark sky. She became transfixed by the crackling fire, unable to pull away as it ensnared her with its allure.

" _Valar Morghulis._ " Arya? Lysara frowned, listening intently to the whispers.

" _Only the monsters live,_ " said Sansa, as her voice was drowned out by the blood curdling screams.

" _Promise me, Ned_." A woman breathed. " _Promise me..."_

" _I'm your brother,_ " Bran's voice whispered, causing her eyes to widen at what she saw. " _I'm meant to protect you._ "

"Rickon!" Lysara rasped.

Lysara scrambled back, falling on her backside as she let out a gasp, the pull that the fire had once had on her was gone along with the visions in the flames. Her eyes searched frantically in the flames but she saw nothing more other than shadows. She crawled towards the fire in desperation, her eyes wide and frightened.

" _No!_ Lysara snarled. "I need to know!"

A bird sounded out, its caw familiar causing her head to snap up just as a black winged bird flew above her head before vanishing. Lysara took to her feet hastily and looked around the tall trees vigorously in search for the bird until her two eyes landed on three. Her grey eyes narrowed significantly as it cawed at her once more, it appeared to be _laughing_. It cocked its head to the side, almost as if it were mocking her.

" _You!_ " She swore lowly, her eyes ablaze.

It tilted its head once more as if to confirm its presence and the fact it was mocking her. The feeling of something watching her other than the bird set paranoia within her, after all, anyone can merely come across her and attack while she was singing for the sun to shine once more. Her eyes widened as the familiar whisper of her name was heard and she turned around slowly, her knees shaking as she stared into the flames. The shadows seemed to be twisting and turning, almost as the shadows were getting ready to take off into flight when she heard her name once more. As she approached the flames, desperate for answers, a twig snapped behind her causing her to gasp. Lysara turned only to collide with a hard chest, they grasped both her wrists causing her head to snap up immediately and a frown formed on her face.

"This is a sacred worship," Lysara breathed and eyed Robb with hesitance. " _Leave_."

"Evening," Robb replied with a dry tone. "It's Rickon, he's taken ill. I reckon it's from all those cakes he ate but he still wants you."

"Tell him-" Lysara began, trying to regain her breath. "I will be with him once the fire dies down. I can't leave it unattended."

"It's raining," Her blue eyed brother pointed out, though the grey eyed woman stiffened when she saw the look in his eyes. _He knows._

"What is it?" Lysara asked carefully, knowing that there was something other than Rickon's well being that was bothering Robb.

"Rickon is under the impression that you will be leaving Winterfell. I asked him why and he thinks that you are hiding something," Robb answered causing her to still. "I must say, I do too and so does Bran. Theon says that shortly after you left he saw the stable boy hand you a letter today. This would be the second letter you have received today, am I right?"

"They were merely letters from Arya and Sansa," Lysara said smoothly but she inwardly cursed the kraken. "It was nothing of importance, merely Arya and Sansa talking of their well being and time in King's Landing. Arya's letter was quite entertaining, nothing new has happened. She still hates everyone and everything other than the swordplay lessons that she has been receiving. And Sansa...let's just say she is too entranced with the supposed fairy tale life of King's Landing. Though I suppose any girl her age would be overjoyed at the prospect of being married to the future King of Westeros."

"You aren't just any girl, though, Lysara. You know what people call you...they call you the Red Lady. I thought it was fitting," Robb said, a smile appearing on his face and it seemed he believed her lie causing her to roll her shoulders to try and ease off the tension. "You give people such cold looks. I swear its like I am in the presence of a White Walker."

"I will see to Rickon," Lysara said firmly and took note of his tired face. "You need rest. It has been a trying and testing week. Sleep well, Robb."

Robb sighed, nodding his head in agreement before pressing his lips to her forehead and walked away, no doubt making his way back to his chambers. Lysara waited a few moments before following after her older brother, lifting up her red skirts. She paused, feeling the letters in her sleeve and pulled them out. Lysara sighed, pressing a kiss to each letter before throwing them in the dying fire. She watched blankly as the pieces of parchment turned black and eventually turned to ash. The lion and the wolf would come to blows and she could nothing about it, all she could do was protect her family from what was to come.

" _-For the night is dark and full of terrors_ ," Lysara finished her prayer aloud before turning and began to walk away from the fire that slowly died down.


	11. Chapter Ten

_Winterfell_

Lysara Stark

"Don't cry," Rickon whimpered as he wiped her tears away with his soft hands. "Please, don't cry."

 _He's gone._ Lysara could not help but let silent tears fall down her face as she stared down at the small fire. It had hurt her more than she could have ever imagined and couldn't help but weep for him. They had received the news that Jaime Lannister and his men had attacked her father and had killed several Stark soldiers, among them, was Jory. The Kingslayer had killed him.

It hurt her when she heard of his death but her fears and paranoia were spiralling out of her control, everything she had seen in the fires was coming true. A lion lunging at wolves. Her eyes flickered to Rickon and she lifted him up onto her lap, letting his head rest on her chest as she let out a shaky breath. She placed her hand on the back of his head and held him gently to her.

 _He's gone._

Her heart was vengeful as she stared on at the fire that was slowly dimming but it roared with life once more the moment her eyes had landed on the dying fire. After hearing about his death and her injured father, she had decided to take Rickon and Brandon into the woods, which also allowed Bran to have the use of his new saddle. Her younger brothers did not know of the situation and she hoped they would never be caught within the game. As she occupied herself staring at the fire and rocking Rickon back and forth, she listened to Bran's voice his joy and happiness.

"Do not wander off, Brandon," Lysara voiced softly as she heard footsteps approaching and looked over her shoulder to see Robb and Theon.

"Robb!" Rickon pleaded, squirming away from her hold to look up at their older brother. "Lysara is sad, why is she sad?"

"She just misses mother and father, that's all," Robb sighed, her pained downcast eyes looked up to meet his own. "She will be alright."

 _No, I won't be,_ Lysara inwardly responds as she eyes her older brother before turning her attention back down to her youngest. She gifted him a small, false smile as he took to resting his head on her chest once more. Robb and Theon began to murmur and mutter to each other, no doubt wondering if they should tell Bran and Rickon what has happened in King's Landing.

"I say, blood for blood," Theon spat as Bran sped passed them on his horse. "You need to make them pay for what they have done to us."

"Your words are harsh as is your soul," Lysara spoke up turning to face him as the fire died down. "You are speaking of war. Besides, only the Lord of Winterfell may call the bannermen and raise an army. And as far as I'm concerned, the likes of Jaime Lannister will be sorted out. No doubt Robert Baratheon will have something to say about it. Our father is his dearest friend. I do not want lions and wolves coming to blow. It will end in nothing but _red."_

"The Lannister's put a sword through your father's leg. He killed Jory! The Kingslayer is riding for Casterly Rock!" Theon seethed, then he nodded to her. "Look at the state of your sister!"

"You want my brother to march on Casterly Rock?" Lysara asked coldly. "Need I remind you what happened to the last house that turned on the Lannister's."

"You aren't a boy anymore, Robb! They attacked your father, the moment they did that they started a war!" Theon argued, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face Robb, who held a thoughtful look. "It is your duty to represent your house in place of your father when he is in King's Landing. You are Lord of Winterfell! You will one day be Warden of the North."

A sudden shiver racked her body, goose flesh slowly appeared on her skin. She stilled, Robb and Theon's voices fading into the background as powerful whispers picked up with the wind. Lysara heard an echoing caw of the familiar bird and her eyes darted up to the tree, she saw the three eyed raven watching her with a pointed expression and once the whispers became clearer, her eyes widened. Lysara hurriedly placed Rickon the ground, despite his protests and stood up, turning to face Robb and Theon with a fearful expression.

"Where's Brandon?" Lysara asked, her heart quickening.

"I told him not to wander off," Robb said vaguely, her hand twitched, wanting to slap him.

"I'm going to find him!" She hissed, her eyes ablaze as she picked up a torch from the fire.

Lysara descended into the woods, the further she walked, the harsher the voices. They were so harsh she was tempted to grip and cover her ears, to try and ignore them. _R'hllor, let me walk in the light to find my brother._ She prayed for her brother's safety while she walked through bushes and brushing passed trees. A twig scratched her cheek as she made her way towards the voices but she found herself uncaring for the sting. As she was about to enter a clearing, she stilled coming across Bran atop of his horse with two men and a woman surrounding him. _Wildlings._

"Are you all alone?" The woman taunted, her eyes became ablaze as her grip tightened on the torch.

"No. He is not," Lysara voiced, emerging from behind the tree startling the three Wildlings.

"Lysara!" Bran breathed, his chest rising and falling quicker.

"It's alright, Brandon," She assured him, taking another slow step towards them. "I'm here now."

"Oh, look." The eldest man lisped, a lecherous grin crossing his features. "It's one of those what do you call them...those Red people."

"That's a pretty necklace you have there," The second man said, pointing to the ruby that was glowing dimly from the fire. The man's eyes flickered back to Brandon and the horse, as she took a few more steps forward. "We won't hurt your boy but we will hurt you if you don't give us that pretty necklace of yours and the horse! Get off the horse boy!"

"He cannot," Lysara said calmly.

"Then get him to be quick about it!" The woman snapped but Lysara merely shook her head.

"I-I can't...the straps..." Bran protested weakly, as they shuffled around the horse with impatience.

The eldest of the three pulled away Bran's cloak to reveal that his ankles, knees and thighs were strapped to the saddle of the horse with brown leather which matched the colouring of the saddle. She took this as an opportunity to move swiftly forward. Lysara looked into the eyes of the horse and watched with triumph as its eyes widened with fright causing it to take a few steps back from them. They whirled around and faced her, jumping back as she had appeared nearer them and drew out their weapons.

"If you come any closer, we'll cut off the boy's little cock and-"

"Not if I castrate you first," Lysara interrupted lowly. "Do you know who we are? Do you know what us Stark's do to Wildlings?"

The eldest man made his way for her and once he was close enough, a small smirk slowly appeared on her face and with a quick movement of her arm, she thrust the fiery flames of the torch into his face. He screamed, clutching and clawing at his face as he collapsed to the ground, letting out agonised moans. She threw the torch down near him, so the fire caught onto his cloak and watched as he was set alight. Lysara let the fire consume him before she looked up blankly towards the remaining man and the woman, who looked on in horror.

"You want warmth. I have given you warmth," Lysara said softly, her voice barely heard above the man's screams.

"You little bitch!" The man seethed, he approached her quickly with his knife drawn.

" _Drop the knife!_ "

Lysara looked over her shoulder to see Robb emerge from the woods, taking his sword out from his sheath and Theon with his bow and arrow readied. The man averted his attention from her to her older brother and made his way over to attack him. The woman made her way towards Robb as well. Lysara hurried over to the horse and her brother and began to unstrap Bran from the saddle, her eyes kept flickering towards Robb and Theon who were getting attacked by the woman and the man. Once Brandon was released from the straps, he had no other option but to slump in her hold as he fell sideways from the horse. She caught him in her arms and lifted him up, looking over with impassive eyes as Theon landed an arrow in the man's throat and Robb forced the woman to her knees.

"Do it, Robb," Lysara said fiercely, as she held Bran tightly in her hold. " _Kill her._ "

Robb's panicked blue eyes met Lysara's cold grey ones. The woman began to whimper and pleaded softly, but her pleas fell silent to her as did the burning man's screams. Lysara hoisted Bran up further, not minding how he weighed as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders tightly and they both looked over at the burnt man, the fire dying down.

"Are you alright?" Theon asked, causing her to nod.

"I'm fine," Bran replied with a soft shrug of his shoulders.

"Tough little lad," Theon grinned, before turning his attention back to the woman, who was kneeling before them and Robb, who held a look of confliction on his hardened face. Although he mostly took after their mother in looks, she couldn't help but see her father in him then. "You're finally a man, Robb. On the Iron Islands, you aren't a man until you have killed your first enemy."

"Kill her, Robb." Lysara orders, causing the woman to look over to her in panic. "They were going to kill our brother."

"Spare me, mi'lady. Don't take me life...have mercy!" The woman begged, crawling towards her.

Theon followed the woman who sat beside her feet with an arrow pointed at her back, aiming for her. Lysara met the woman's desperate eyes and stared at her, holding her gaze for a long time before she looked back to Robb and nodded. Bran's nails dug into her bare shoulders as he too was staring down towards the woman. Lysara merely held the woman's fearful stare with a blank one.

"She won't do anything, I think. The others are dead," Robb voiced, causing her to nod slowly.

"You may live, for now," Lysara said icily. The woman began to paw at her red skirts in what she deemed was partly out of gratefulness and desperation. The woman's murmurs were all she heard other than her own and her brother's breaths. "I may forgive, but I will never forget. You have a debt to pay, _Osha_."

The woman stilled, her entire body freezing until she could only see her chest and back rising and falling with each slow breath she took. The woman's eyes downcast eyes slowly flickered up and once their eyes met, the woman's eyes widened significantly as she nodded slowly in fright. Theon pulled the woman up, grasping onto her arms tightly as he looked towards her strangely before turning to look at Robb, for what it seemed was final confirmation on the woman's fate.

"She lives," Robb confirms. " _For now_."

"Thank you, mi'lady...mi'lord..." Osha said, breathing out in relief.

* * *

Lysara was currently in her father's study with Robb and Theon. Her dreams that night were not pleasant, they were warning. She did not dream of the silver, purple eyed boy that she frequently saw. Nor did she dream of Jory Cassel, telling her she was meant to be kissed well. No, she dreamt of a caged bird in a lion's den and couldn't help but compare it to Sansa and the Lannister's. She dreamt of a dying stag and she dreamt of a wolf losing its head...and she knew then it was father. Lysara was exhausted and had barely slept, it did not help the fact she had Osha looming over her, claiming her to be some for of witch or _god_. She scoffed at the latter.

 _I am no witch nor god, I am a servant of the light._

"Lord Stark," Maester Luwin said urgently, his old voice holding panic as he entered the study. "A raven from King's Landing. It's from your sister."

Lysara felt dread pool within her belly. She watched intently as Robb was passed the letter and looked on as his relaxed face contorted into a fearful and then a panicked one. Her eyes widened, every feeling she felt at this moment was not good as she shared a look with Theon while they waited for Robb to finish reading the letter. The silence was tense and she knew that if she had a dagger on her, she could cut through it.

"Treason!" Robb roared, causing her to look on.

"Father," Lysara concluded, causing Robb to nod. "What have they accused him of?"

"It's father. He's been arrested by the Lannister's for treason," Her brother answered. "King Robert is dead."

"Let me see the letter," She demanded. He nodded and he passed it over to her, she gripped it with her sharp nails, her mind comprehending the words before she looked back up to Robb, Theon and Maester Luwin. "These are not Sansa's words. The words may be from her hand but it is Queen Cersei who has truly written this...And what of Arya? Where is she? The letter does not mention her."

"I do not know, my Lady," Maester Luwin said softly, before turning to Robb. "I'm sure if they cannot find her, that means she cannot be caught. My Lord, you have been summoned to King's Landing to swear fealty to the new King, Joffrey Baratheon."

"He wants his arse _kissed_?" Robb spat, slamming his hands on the table, causing it to shake as his words created thunder in her ears.

"I should have told you sooner," Lysara murmured as she sipped at her tea.

"Told us what?" Robb asked, but she remained silent keeping her eyes downcast. "Told us _what_ , Lysara?"

"I told mother, she did not believe me..." She trailed off, setting her tea back down on the table and looked up to her brother hesitantly. "I should have come to you instead. It seems I have made a fatal mistake. Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen. They are not Robert Baratheon's children. They are bastards. Jaime and Cersei Lannister's bastards, to be more precise. They were the ones to push Brandon from the tower, not Tyrion."

"You're lying," Robb said, shaking his head in denial.

"How on earth would you know that?" Theon asked, looking as if he was about to burst into laughter if the situation wasn't serious.

"I got to the tower first...I did not find the strand of _long, blonde_ hair that our mother found. Instead, I found a necklace. _A lion_. I confronted the Kingslayer and he admitted it. He did not outright admit but he did not deny the claims I made." Lysara admitted but continued so that Robb couldn't interrupt her angrily. "Father was attacked outside a _brothel_ , the Mockingbird's brothel. The Kingslayer attacked our father outside of it and killed...killed his men. Why would the Kingslayer attack our father without provocation? Besides, our father would _never_ approach a brothel much less go in one. He was looking for something...he turned to a man who knew everything when he knew nothing...Petyr Baelish."

As she continued her explanation, the puzzle began to weave and piece together. Lysara watched carefully as Robb, Theon and the Maester's faces changed drastically. She straightened her back, taking a long sip of her cooling tea before looking back up towards Robb and eyed him intensely. _They believe me, it seems._ Lysara lay her hands across her red skirts.

"You will not go to King's Landing," Lysara said firmly. "You will not swear fealty."

"Lady Lysara, it is a royal command. He has been crowned King nonetheless. If one were to disobey-" Maester Luwin began, but Robb interrupted him.

"I won't refuse," Robb said coldly, taking the letter from her hands and clenched it in his hand. "If His Grace summons me to King's Landing to swear fealty, then I will go to King's Landing. Although...I will not be alone in my march on the South," Robb turned to Luwin, holding a fierce look in his eyes. "Call on the banners."

"All of them, my Lord?" Maester Luwin inquired. _He too was just as angry at the Lannister's._

"They have all sworn to defend my father, their liege Lord, have they not?" Robb demanded, causing her to raise an eyebrow.

"They have," Maester Luwin confirmed.

"Let us see what their words are worth," Robb said icily, staring into the candle light.

Maester Luwin nodded vigorously, briskly leaving the study. Lysara stared on at her older brother and noticed the drastic changes within him. Robb took a seat beside her and the Kraken followed shortly after. Lysara looked on at her brother and saw fear in his eyes. To her, he was no man. To her, he was just a frightened little boy that was going to play war. To her, he was just a boy who wants to save his sisters and father. To her, he was her older brother.

"If you are going to do war..." Lysara began. Robb's head snapped towards her as she held a firm but pained expression. "If you _lose_. Father _dies_. Our sister's...they will _die_. You hesitated to kill those Wildlings that attacked our brother. You _hesitated._ Your hesitation may be the death of you. You must kill our enemies, every one of them. Kill them all. Do not hold back, brother. We will show them what winter truly means when we are done with them. I promise you."

"You're afraid," Theon observed, causing her to nod as she observed his shaking body.

"I must be," Robb tells them and sucked in a sharp breath.

"Good," Theon replied. "It means your not stupid."

"You will not be coming with us, Lysara," Robb said, causing her eyes to avert back to him quickly as she stood. "I believe every word that passes from your lips. Every word you have spoken has come true, hasn't it? I do not want you by my side when I leave Winterfell. You don't belong on the battlefield. You belong in Winterfell. You must stay here and protect our younger brothers."

"What are you suggesting?" Lysara asked carefully, her face growing hard.

" _You must run Winterfell."_

* * *

Author's Note: Hey, hopefully you like this chapter. I hope it didn't disappoint. I'd like to thank everyone for reading my story, for putting it as one of your favourites and for following it. And I would like to give a massive thanks to everyone who left a review!

Reviews-

ladyres: Melisandre will be included in later chapter's but unfortunately she won't be encountering Thoros and Lady Stoneheart (although I haven't really decided if I should include her or not.)

unk: Thank you! Hopefully you like this chapter.

ATP: Thank you for reviewing, but I won't be skipping to season 6 though I will get to a chapter where it will be a year later or so. I'm not fully the script entirely, I'm following the plot though but unfortunately I have to follow the plot until a certain thing happens, without giving anything away.

Guest 1: I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint and thank you! I'm glad you think so.

celticank: Thank you! I'm really glad you think so.

Guest 2: It is just 6 pups. Lysara doesn't have a pup, so it's just 6 pups. No you aren't being a wench, I accidentally put him as Ser Rodrick's son instead of his nephew, so I'm sorry for that mistake. I'm not really going to include Arya in this story as much, she won't appear for a long while but there will be a slow burn resentment. And thank you for reviewing and for pointing that out.

Lyanna: Thank you for reviewing. Lysara will be mostly an anti-hero, she will do good things but she will do bad things as well. She won't really become a hero. I consider her more to be a chaotic good character. She won't end up with Jon at all. It will just be a brother-sister relationship and nothing more.

Ly: Without giving the plot away (Jon and Daenerys will be involved in way later chapter's with it) but it is Rhaegar's son, Aegon. It is to do with the three headed dragon. It isn't stated in the books that he is a fake Targaryen although it's heavily implied but for this fanfiction I've made him out to be the true son of Rhaegar.


	12. Chapter Eleven

_Winterfell_

Lysara Stark

It was dark, darkness was all that consumed her. Lysara inhaled sharply and looked to her left hand, that held a dim torch that slowly turned brighter as she descended down the stone steps. As she walked slowly down the steep steps, hitching up her skirts shakily in her right hand, an agonising scream made her still. _Mother._ The scream chilled her and she hurriedly ran down the steps, mindful of her dress and her eyes widened when she came to the realisation of where she was. _The crypts,_ Lysara thought with a cock of her head. The one place in Winterfell where she did not feel welcomed nor liked. Lysara swallowed, letting her skirts fall back in place as her hand reached up and her long fingers clutched the ruby of her necklace as a form of comfort. The crypts were silent once more, the only sound heard was her own breath and she wondered briefly if she had imagined her mother's screams.

However as she made her way further into the crypt, there was no denying it was her mother when she saw three figures standing in front of her. The sight of them made her stomach twist and turn. It made her heart race from fear yet ache from pain and all she could do was stare at her mother. Her mother's face no longer had a light rose glow, her mother's face took on the colour of milk that had curdled. Her mother's throat was slashed to the bone and her mother's hollow eyes were void of emotion. And tears filled her eyes when she turned to the second figure. _Father,_ Lysara thought solemnly. Her father, he had no head atop of his shoulders instead he carried his head in his hands...but it was her elder brother or at least what was left of him that truly frightened her.

He no longer had bright blue eyes, unruly auburn locks and a kind smile that would brighten even the darkest of nights... _no._ Instead of Robb's head, there was another fixed on his shoulders. _Grey Wind,_ Lysara thought hopelessly. She swallowed thickly, dropping the touch in fright when he lifted his head towards her and bared his sharpened teeth to her. Lysara took a few steps back in terror and watched as the flames of the torch died instantly as it hit the wet ground.

" _Winter is Coming,_ " Her father tells her, his voice cracking like ice.

Lysara wanted to speak, to ask of her father how this came to be, yet she found herself unable to. She continued to stare on with wide grey eyes and clutched tighter onto her necklace that began to glow brightly. This was not her father nor her mother and brother. These beings were dead but the winds of winter had given them life it was not the doing of the Lord of Light's fire. Lysara desperately attempted to speak but was unable to produce a sound. She watches in despair as her mother holds two fingers to her throat, her vicious eyes never leaving her own.

" _The North Remembers_ ," Her mother informs her, her voice raspy and barely heard.

Her brother began to growl and snarl at her, gnashing his sharp teeth together. Lysara took hesitant steps back until her back collided with a statue, she frowned turning to face it and her mouth fell agape. _Aunt Lyanna._ The woman was stone, as she should be but the stone was covered in blood. The blood seeped from the statue's ears, mouth, eyes, nose and terrifying between her legs. A strong smell of roses and blood caused her to gag. Lysara's throat was hoarse, she wanted to scream and wake herself from the night terror. The crippling act of being unable to speak was just as frightening as seeing the fates of her family laid out in front of her. She curses herself for feeling so _helpless._

 _"Lysara."_

The voice was powerful and she did not doubt it was male but it wasn't her father nor brother. It was not coming from inside the crypts either. Lysara turned, looking over her shoulder slowly and saw a fire behind her along with three shadowy figures. She swallowed, trying to rid herself of the dry throat she had gained and turned to face the three figures fully, the power and fire from them were beckoning her closer to them, like a moth to a flame.

"Lysara."

It was then her eyes opened. In a few moments, she realised that she was within her chambers. Lysara looked to see her younger brother, Rickon curled into her side and his head on her stomach. His back rose and fell evenly showing that he was asleep. Her eyes trailed to the warmth and weight on her legs and saw Shaggydog was at her feet, panting loudly as he slept. Her eyes vigorously looked around her chambers until they landed on Osha, who was looming over her, her eyes cautious and wild like the lands she hailed from. Lysara's confusion subsided as she slowly propped herself up using her elbows, turning her attention fully to the Wildling woman.

"Did I startle you?" Lysara asked, raising an eyebrow to the woman, who nodded slowly and eyed her warily.

"Aye," Osha retorted. "What did you dream of this time? More dragons? Or was it wolves?"

A heavy knocked sounded on her door before she could answer, causing her head along with Osha's to snap towards the dark wooden door. Shaggydog raised his head and bared his teeth towards the door. She merely nudged the ever growing direwolf with her toes and looked to the door as it slowly opened only to reveal her older brother. Lysara looked on with great difficulty and conflict, knowing what was to come and what was to be said next. She found it difficult to look him in the eye...knowing that it would be the last time she ever does so.

"Lysara," Robb addressed.

"Brother," Lysara nodded stiffly. "I take it...you will be leaving this morn?"

Lysara observed Robb; he was dressed in his warmest cloak, a Stark cloak with heavy furs and as she peered at him, she could see his armour. It seemed he had tried to hide it from her sight. Her eyes reluctantly darted up to his face, her cool facade softened when she saw his fearful eyes and pained expression. _He is not ready to say goodbye,_ Lysara thought to herself turning to face Rickon and she watched as he shifted in his sleep, a peaceful and unaware smile on his face. _I do not think I will ever be ready._

"Promise me-" Robb began, "Promise me that you will protect our brothers. Our home. You have to promise me, Lysara. Bran and Rickon...you have to protect them..."

Lysara stilled, she could feel Osha shuffling to her side but all she could do was stare at Robb's ever hardening face. She watched his face turn from a boy to a man to a wolf in an instant. _How can I protect Winterfell from drowning?_ Lysara thought coldly. Her dull grey eyes met his bright blue eyes and all she could do was nod softly.

"Promise me, Lysara."

 _Promise me, Ned._

Lysara stilled hearing the small, weak feminine voice from her recurring dreams and froze. She rose from her bed and made her way over to him, reaching out and cupped his broad shoulders. Lysara barely had any time to react before he threw his arms around her, engulfing her in hard armour and the warmth from the furs. She eyed the back of Robb's head before gently threading her fingers through his hair. She often found it strange, despite being younger than Robb, she felt as if she was the older sibling.

"I promise, Robb," Lysara vowed as he pulled back and their eyes met.

"You are the Lady of Winterfell now," Robb states firmly and she gripped his face tightly, searching the various emotions in his eyes.

"You're afraid," Lysara said but it comes out more of a question than it does a statement.

" _Yes_ ," He answered with a waver in his voice.

"You are the Young Wolf. You need not fear the light but rather the dark. You should fear the shadow that fights in your name when you are looking but plots against your name when you turn your back. Do not break any promises you have made," Lysara responds coolly. "I think it would do you well to keep Grey Wind at your side. All I see is red, Robb. I see you consumed by _red_. It rains over the halls. You must protect yourself. Do not trust anyone...life is safer that way."

"We will be together again soon, I promise," Robb said and gifts her a weak smile. _No, no we won't._ He pressed a kiss to her forehead, holding her close for the last time. Lysara held him closer than she ever has before, for this would be the last time she sees, hears and feels him. It hurts. She wished to tell him, to tell him everything she dreamt of. To tell him that he was fighting a war that would never be won. Yet...she had to keep her secrets hidden...they could not find out. "I will be back soon. I will be back with mother, father and our sisters before you know it. I will not fail you."

"Goodbye, Robb." _Forevermore._

"Goodbye, Lysara."

* * *

Lysara stared coldly out of the window from the shadows, she could see the banners and sigils of many Northern houses fly high and saw her brother riding out in front with Grey Wind loyally at his side. Her eyes landed on the traitorous being who rode at his side and her lips pursed in disdain. She held Rickon tightly in her hold, letting him rest his head on her shoulder as he wept gently for their family. The pack of wolves that belonged to Winterfell were separated. She watched as the army marched out of Winterfell.

Lysara turned away from the window and walked towards Brandon's chambers with Shaggydog and Osha trailing behind her and her brother. She looked to see Bran's chamber door was already open and stepped inside upon seeing Brandon was already sitting up and awake, petting Summer's soft fur. Her youngest brother began to squirm in her arms so she set him down and he immediately ran to Bran's side, jumping onto the bed beside him.

"He's gone, isn't he?" Brandon asked as she took a seat on the edge of the bed with her brothers. "Robb. Theon. They're all gone. All of them."

"Yes," Lysara confirmed.

"They will come back, won't they?" Bran questioned, causing her to look on with blank eyes. "We will all be together again. Robb said we would."

"No," Lysara answered truthfully, pulling Rickon into her lap. "They won't. We won't see them again. Not in this lifetime. Until that lifetime, I'll protect you. Both of you."

"Robb told us to look after you," Rickon informs her and turns to look up at her. "We're your brothers, he told us. We're meant to protect _you_."

"And I'm your elder sister. I will protect you from the night," Lysara tells him as she held her little brother close and kept her eyes trained on Bran. "The night is dark and full of terrors, I must burn all the terrors away with R'hllor's light. I am to rule Winterfell for now. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives. We must remain strong. Together. If we are to withstand the Long Night...we need each other."

"Winter is Coming," Brandon swore to cause her to nod. She then reached over and took his hand in her own, clenching it firmly while resting her chin softly on Rickon's head.

"Winter is Coming," Lysara repeated icily. "And the dead come with it."

"I'm afraid," Rickon mumbled as he wiped his running nose on his sleeve.

"You know nothing of fear, my wild wolf," Lysara began coldly and rose from the bed, setting Rickon down beside Bran and approached the candles as they flickered. "The fear you hold now, keep it for when winter truly comes. The winds of winter will come and when they do...you will hear no prideful lions roar from their rock. No stags will graze upon the frozen fields. Nor will any roses bloom in their frostbitten meadows. The winter will freeze the Krakens and trouts where they swim. The flayed man will rot and wither. And when the snow falls, the breath of a dragon will not warm your halls. The winds of winter will bring forth the army of the dead and they will come...and the wolves will howl in the Long Night."

"The men of the Night's Watch-" Brandon began shakily. "They protect us, though."

"No," Lysara tells him quietly. "And when the wights roam our lands and they will...may R'hllor send forth Azor Ahai to bring back spring."

* * *

 _The Narrow Sea_

Young Griff

Young Griff let his purple eyes settle on the waves that crashed against the Shy Maid. They were sailing for Westeros and all he could do was pace up and down the ship in anticipation of it. He was returning to his homeland. He was returning to his birth right. And his people. He would see to it that the three headed dragon banners would fly over Westeros once more. After consulting with Jon Connington, they were to conquer Griffin's Roost and then their next destination would be Storm's End, the ancestral home of House Baratheon. He was thirsty, thirsty for blood and could not wait to take Storm's End from them after what the Stags took from him.

 _My mother. My father. My sister. My throne. My Kingdom._

The men aboard the ship were drinking and eating their fill, after another successful raid. Instead of joining in with his men, he stared out at the waves that rocked the boat gently. He thought on the Iron Throne and the supposed claimants carefully, especially after hearing the death of Robert Baratheon. Young Griff hated the fact that he died, he hated the fact that he could not stick a knife in the bastard himself. Stannis and Renly Baratheon were powerful, he did not doubt that and also knew of the large army and lands they held. Ser Connington claimed it would be a more wise decision to take on Lord Renly first before taking on Stannis. His eyes flickered up to the sky that had swirling grey clouds, indicating that they would soon expect a storm but he couldn't help but be reminded of _her._

"I will have both allies and enemies...will I not? Tell me, what do you know of House Stark? " Young Griff inquired as Jon made his way towards him.

The man was alike that of a father to him, the man was growing older and he grew more worried the closer they got to Westeros. Young Griff lifted up a small direwolf marker and held it to his face, inspecting its grey eyes and fierce, snarling features. Ser Jon looked surprised that he had asked that question, his eyebrows lifting up which caused his forehead to wrinkle significantly and Ser Jon turned to face him then, with a questioning look present on his face.

"I know plenty of House Stark," Jon stated, his eyebrows remaining raised.

"Tell me," He urged. "I wish to know."

"Eddard Stark is Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, he has been for years. And his wife, Lady Catelyn is from House Tully of Riverrun," Jon replies with a heavy sigh. "Lord Eddard has recently travelled to King's Landing to become Hand of the King. It is known. I do not know much other than that. He and his wife have six children, seven if you include the Stark bastard. Robb, Lysara, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon. I don't know much about those Northerners... Now that Robert is dead...Joffrey has taken the throne. A war is coming in Westeros, boy. This war is between the living. Eddard Stark has been imprisoned, Lord Robb Stark has waged war against the Lannister's and the Baratheon boy who hold the throne...Lady Lysara rules Winterfell in their absence. I am contemplating on what would be best after laying siege to Griffin's Roost...do we take Storm's End or march straight for Winterfell...it would be easy enough to take the home run by a woman...however, I have heard some stories about that girl.

" _Some?"_ Young Griff repeats curiously, tilting his head to the side. "Like what?"

"It does not matter, boy," Ser Connington said gruffly as a frown darkens his features. "What I want to know is, why are you asking about the bloody Stark's? Of all houses."

"Because-" He began, sucking in the sea air. "I wish to make the eldest Stark girl my bride."

"What?" Jon demanded, his eyebrows flying up once more as he turned to face him fully and clasped a firm hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly as it to shake some sense into him, which he often tried to do. "By the Gods! Why would you want to marry a _Stark?_ I don't understand. You don't even know _her_. You don't even know the North. Need I remind you what happened the last time fire met ice? A rebellion was started. The same rebellion that ended the Targaryen dynasty. The same rebellion that had your mother raped and murdered. The same rebellion that had your sister butchered. The same rebellion that killed your father. You would me much better off wedding your aunt, Daenerys. Or Arianne Martell. Do not be foolish."

" _Daenerys?_ " Young Griff scoffed, folding his arms over his chest and looked to Jon with an amused look, a smirk steadily growing on his face. "I will not run to my aunt. Do not make me laugh. I am the only dragon that Westeros needs. Let her come to me. Let her grovel at my feet and then I may consider it. Besides, I doubt she will return to Westeros. Isn't she married to a Dothraki? If I take this Lysara Stark as my wife, it would mean that I would have the North and the Riverlands backing me, wouldn't it? And possibly the Reach at a stretch. Then I will have an army to face-"

"You cannot marry Lysara Stark," Jon interrupts and it was his turn to raise his brows.

"And why not? Is she already wed?" He asks.

"No..." Ser Connington trailed off with another heavy sigh escaping his lips. "Lysara Stark is a Red Priestess, therefore sworn to celibacy."

"And how would you know that?" Young Griff scoffs, raking a hand through his blue hair that held silver streaks which reminded him that he needed to dye it once more. In order to keep up appearances, like Lord Varys and Jon want. "You said it yourself, we are only hearing the stories of sailors and most if not all stories hold some fabrication. The she-wolf cannot possibly be a Red Priestess of R'hllor. You jest, Ser."

"I do not jest," Ser Jon said firmly. "I heard from the Spider himself. He has informed me about all of the houses. He does so once every two weeks. She apparently runs Winterfell."

"Nor do I," Young Griff retorted as he leant against the ship. "I will marry her, whether you like it or not."

"And how do you propose on doing so?" Jon asked, watching carefully. "The Stark's may be loyal and honourable...but they are fierce, their women even more so. They are hard to kill in a pack."

* * *

Author's Note: Hey! Hopefully you like chapter's eleven and twelve. Let me know what you think and if you have any questions, feel free to ask. I'd like to thank all of you for reading this story, for reviewing and for following and for making 'Of Wolves and Winter' as one of your favourites!

 _Reviews-_

Keitzuro: Thank you, hopefully these chapters don't disappoint!

Guest 1: I'm afraid she isn't a Targaryen but she does seem to have a lot of Targaryen-like qualities.

Guest 2: Unfortunately, I don't plan on making Lysara a vampire but I agree it would be quite cool.

celticank: Hopefully you like chapter's eleven and twelve!

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you! I hope you like these two chapters!


	13. Chapter Twelve

_Winterfell_

Lysara Stark

It has been two moon's worth since her brother had left for war and it has been two moon's worth that she has run Winterfell for. R'hllor had answered her prayers and had gifted her the insight she needed in order to run her home... _smoothly._ It was not a position she eased into, it took great care and planning for her to do so. If she was to run the North and to hold Winterfell, she needed to be in the right state of mind and needed to have the right set of minds to help her.

Lysara's council consisted of Maester Luwin, who gave her the information and advice she needed. Though, he was _too_ peaceful. On the other hand, she had Osha, the Wildling woman who was in debt to her, she was a gifted woman...when it came to violence, of course. Although she preferred peace and violence...she looked for a more political approach rather than discussing peace terms or waging war like her brother was doing against the Lannister's and the Iron Throne.

Lysara had received many letters from her mother and brother, telling her of news. Though, it was news she had already foreseen and ultimately guessed. Her mother had written to her of how they convinced the ever conniving and deceiving Lord Walder of House Frey. The Late Lord would late her brother and his army cross the bridge but for a price. Her brother and youngest sister, Arya were to be married. The thought of Arya marrying Waldon Frey, reduced her to tears. Lysara had laughed so much that evening she ever has in her lifetime. The main problem she faced was rallying the _weaker_ and the more _cowardly_ houses for her older brother.

Lysara stared into the fire, that flickered dimly in her chambers, a blank look present on her face as she adjusted her necklace and let her dark locks drape across her shoulders like silk. She closed her eyes, taking in a sharp and deep breath to prepare for what was to come. Lysara had dreamt of her father the night before, he no longer had his head. She knew it was to happen, it was bound to with the likes of the bastard Joffrey.

" _Lysara."_

Lysara looked to the door of her chambers to find Maester Luwin standing there, a solemn expression on his face and a letter held by his nimble, shaking fingers. She stood slowly from where she was kneeling, looking on as tears filled her eyes slowly but she did not dare let them fall from her eyes. Lysara watched intently with eyes ablaze as the Maester Luwin walked towards her, handing her the letter with a solemn look etched onto his features.

"He's dead," Lysara said numbly. Her eyes darted from the letter to Maester Luwin. "Isn't he?"

Lysara opened the letter and took in each word she read, her father was no longer walking this word. He was gone. _Executed._ Her hands trembled as a burning and seething rage filled her as she continued to read it, unwillingly letting the tears fall from her eyes this time as she let the news slowly sink in. He was beheaded. Her father had lost his head outside the Great Sept of Baelor. She rolled her shoulders, wiping the tears harshly from her face and stalked off. Maester Luwin called after her but she paid him no mind as she stormed down the halls.

She stared at the words, reading them over and over, letting the realisation of them sink in. Lysara folded the piece of parchment over and placed it in the sleeve of her dress. The Lannister's had killed her father. The bird that mocked him had betrayed him. Lysara cursed herself then, the tears falling bitterly from her grey eyes. _Kill them all,_ Lysara prayed to R'hllor. She clasped her shaking hands together tightly, letting her nails dig into her flesh. _Do not soothe my wrath nor vengeance until the lions roar no longer. Until the bird no longer mocks us._

" _Kill them all..._ " Lysara whispered viciously, eyeing the burning candles with hate and threw her hands against the wall, gripping the rough stone as she tried to keep herself standing while her knees grew weak and knocked together harshly with every step she took. As she took a further step, she collapsed to her knees with a harsh sob." _All of them."_

"Lady Lysara?"

Lysara looked over her shoulder with bloodshot eyes, her eyes met the saddened eyes of Maester Luwin. She knew what he saw, he saw no Lady nor a woman. He saw her as the babe of Lord Eddard Stark and his Lady wife, Catelyn. He saw the same babe he helped birth ten and six years ago. He saw no woman. He saw a _girl_ , a girl of ten and six. Lysara let her eyes flutter close, despising the wetness she felt on her pale face.

"I want them _dead_ ," Lysara spits fiercely, reopening her eyes. "I want them to _die_. I want them to _bleed_. I want them to _burn_."

"They will, my Lady," Maester Luwin promised, bending down and took her hands in his own. Her eyes looked down, trying to reason why her hands stung and her eyes widened at what she saw. The skin was peeling from the palms of her hands, she saw blood and bits of brick in her nails and had several nail marks deeply embedded in her skin. He covered her hands with his own and helped her up, carrying most of her weight as he escorted her back to her chambers, where he began to tend to her self inflicted wounds.

"Brandon and Rickon-" She began hopelessly but he shook his head, hushing her.

" _Osha_ ," He said simply before settling back into his work. _They know._

The moment she had stood up again from her bed, she heard the sound of wolves howling mournfully and closed her eyes, breathing gently through her nose. The door to her chambers swung open and her eyes opened once more, looking over to the door. Her youngest brother came sobbing to her, rushing to her side. Lysara hoisted him up immediately despite the pain in her hands and held him as he flung his arms around her neck, choking her slightly as he wept. Lysara stared on blankly at the wall, listening to her brother sobbing into her shoulder and hair, that she could feel steadily dampening.

Lysara found herself unable to hear him anymore, except feel his body shake violently from his screaming. She began to rock Rickon back and forth, continuing to stare at the wall with a frown forming on her face as she felt her own tears slide down her face and land on Rickon's unruly and untamed hair. She sat motionlessly then, her eyes darting to Maester Luwin who took his exit from her chambers and continued to hold her younger brother as he started to drift off.

It did not take Rickon long before he was asleep, his dreams would no doubt be restless but she prayed to R'hllor that he would burn the darkness away and let the light come forth. She gently laid him down on her bed, pulling up various warm furs and skins, tucking him in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a dark red mark on his face. Lysara stood and looked to her chamber door, when the soft crying of Brandon seeped through and echoed throughout her chambers, hauntingly.

Lysara wiped the wetness from her tear stained face and picked up her red skirts and briskly left her chambers, she made a short yet agonising journey towards Bran's chambers and saw the door to them was open wide. She appeared at the door, dropping her skirts and let her hands clasped together, folding them across her lap as she saw her brother weep.

"Brandon," Lysara said as the familiar sting was in her eyes.

"L-Lysara..." He murmured, looking up at her from sobbing into Summer's fur.

Lysara fell silent, unable to say anything that would make this better for nothing would nor would it make anything better. She simply hitched up her skirts once more made her way to Bran's bedside and lay beside him, letting his head rest on her chest as he sobbed. Her eyes met Summer's yellow and they exchanged the same look of sorts. A look of vengeance. She lay with Brandon, keeping her arms wrapped around him as he sobbed. Lysara's eyes looked to the candles that were dimly lit compared to the fire inside of her. She held her brother until he fell still but even then she continued to hold him, despite having fell asleep.

"I will not let anything harm you, I promise," Lysara swore darkly and pressed a kiss softly to his tear stained cheek. " _I will burn the world if I must._ "

* * *

It has been two days since their father's death and it has grown more complicated for her since then. The burning within her continued and it felt as if it would never vanquish. Lysara found it strange, her powers and her visions were growing more frequent and more powerful. They left her severely aching. She knows that history does truly find itself repeating, more so since their father's death. Rickon had refused to leave her side, even with kind words and coaxing, he would not listen. Lysara had attempted many a time to leave him in the hands of Old Nan, Osha and Maester Luwin but he would be brought to tears by the mere thought of her leaving.

 _You'll leave, her brother's voice echoed in her mind. You'll leave, like father. Like, mother. And you won't come back!_

Lysara had assured him she would not leave this world but he refused to listen to her. It was in this time, she cursed the stubbornness of wolf children. Now, wherever she went, he followed even when she went to pray to the Lord of Light. Lysara often found herself confused when waking from her dreams but so did the thought of never hearing nor seeing her father again. Lysara was also having dreams of becoming Brandon's direwolf, Summer. And it made her brows furrow further as a thunderous look took hold on her impassive features as she stared on at Harold of House Stout walking slowly into the hall.

"My Lady Stark, I held my allegiance to Lord Eddard of House Stark," Lord Stout stated and his lips pursed into a sneer. "I hold no allegiance to some _boy._ My mother always told me to never look down upon women but forgive me for saying this my Lady but how are _you_ , a girl of ten and six capable of ruling Winterfell? And the North, no less whilst your brother plays soldier."

"You swore an oath to House Stark, did you not?" Lysara asked calmly, her voice cool and collected. "I have come to the understanding that you have received word to send out your bannermen to aid my brother, your King, Robb Stark. Yet, I do not see your sigil raised to help him nor do I hear of any of your men fighting to keep the North free from Lannister rule. You may not have sworn an oath to my brother but you did swear it to my father, Eddard. Your liege Lord was unlawfully killed. Are you telling me that you do not wish to defend the North and avenge your Lord?"

"M-My Lady-" Lord Stout began, looking shocked and taken aback as his brown eyes widened but she could sense he was growing more agitated and angered as he spoke, taking a few steps forward. "I loved Lord Ned. All of the North loved him. He was a noble man...that is just it, he _was_. I will not send my men to fight some foolish boy's war for a dead man!

" _King_ Robb," Lysara informs him sharply. "My brother went to war the moment they hailed my father a traitor, the moment they took my sisters hostage. My brother had fought many wars when my father was alive and still continues on his crusade to rescue my sisters, Sansa and Arya, who are currently being held hostage by the Lannister's. He still fights. As do many other of the houses sworn to House Stark. Yet...here _you_ stand in _my_ halls, telling me that _I_ cannot run my own home."

"It's not our brother's fault," Bran speaks up, gritting his teeth causing her to glance at him. "He didn't choose this. He didn't ask for this. Any of this."

"He may not have asked for this, my Lord," Lord Harold said. "He called his banners and-"

"You refused," She interrupted coolly, causing him to splutter and his face to steadily redden. "I know not of the words of your house, Lord Stout. Perhaps it is because you have never done anything to gain them? The blood of the First Men runs through my veins, as it does my brothers, as it did my father and as it does your blood. We must stand together. We are no cowards. I do not cower nor does my brother. You will not cower either. Do you remember your vows?

"Of course, I remember, _foolish girl!_ " The man sneered, causing her to lift an eyebrow.

"That is good to hear, _stupid man_ ," Lysara responded. "Tell me, do you have women at Goldgrass?"

"Aye. Why would you ask such a question, my Lady?" He grits out, his eyebrows lifting causing the skin around his eyes to wrinkle.

"Really? They must be very scarce considering you travelled two weeks worth with an army just to look upon a woman running her household and home," She drawled, her face blank. "I hope that is not the very reason you travelled to Winterfell. Your men have terrorised Wintertown. Your men have eaten our food, drank our drink and have slept in our home. The women of the brothel arrived at the castle doorstep traumatised at the very prospect of you and your men rudely barging your way into their home. Therefore, I pray you have a better reason to visit Winterfell other than _this._ "

"I do," He replied, his voice was wavering but her eyes widened when he knelt, looking up at her. "I beg forgiveness, my Lady."

"You are forgiven," Lysara replied, waving him off dismissively. "I expect you are here due to the scorched earth."

"How did you-" Lord Harold began, his brows furrowed in confusion but she interrupted him.

"I am afraid news travels fast," Lysara says as she clasps her hand together and lay them on the table.

"Goldgrass. It is my _home._ The little fields and crops we have, they have destroyed and burnt. The rivers and wells, they have destroyed. Our land has been ravaged. I have turned to many houses excuse me, my Lady, that I thought would be more capable as I knew _you_ were...ruling over Winterfell in place of your brother. My people are starving..." He trailed off. _He is a proud man,_ Lysara thought with her eyebrow arched. _He does not want to grovel to a woman._ "I...I need _help._ I will not accept anything... _please,_ my Lady Lysara."

" _Winter is Coming,_ Lord Harold," Lysara tells him before continuing, turning to face Maester Luwin. "We have crops, do we not? How much of our crops do you reckon we can give him?"

"We can spare a fifth of our crops," Maester Luwin informed her with an approving nod. "I trust that will be enough?"

"I-I believe it will," Lord Harold stammered before his gaze diverted to her. "I thank you, my Lady."

"I know of our ways, as do you..." She nodded, her grey eyes focused on him. "I expect you will offer my brother an army in return?"

Lord Harold Stout nodded firmly, before turning on his heel and walked out of the hall. Lysara rolled her shoulders, releasing her hands that had been wrapped around the armrest and relaxed, leaning her head back against the furs that had been draped over the neck of the wooden chair. It had physically exhausted her, more so when she prayed to R'hllor at night. Lysara looked to her younger auburn haired brother with a small, barely visible smile.

"Father would be proud," Bran stated softly causing her to stiffen and her smile to fade. "He would be proud of you, Lysara."

"As he would of you," Lysara responds trying to keep her voice from cracking.

 _Promise me, Lysara._

* * *

Bran Stark

He felt off. He woke up and felt _odd._ It was due to his dream. He had dreamt of his direwolf, Summer. He did not exactly dream of him, he dreamt that he _was_ the wolf. Lysara insisted that they travel to the Godswood and he couldn't help but agree. Bran hated the fact that he has been held in the castle for days on end, having to watch from his chambers in envy as his elder sister takes their younger brother into the woods with her. Bran looks to his sister, who was deep in prayer and decides not to disturb her and instead turns his attention to Osha, who shoves a plant in his face. _A pain relieving herb,_ Osha had insisted to him.

"I'm not in pain," Bran says weakly as Hodor set him down next to the small pond.

"You dream, don't you? Like your sister," Osha asks.

 _I hope not,_ Bran thinks. Lysara frightened him with her dreams. He remembered when they were younger, she used to tell them scary stories derived from what she had dreamt and now...they were coming true. It terrified him that the dreams brought his sister much pain and he couldn't do anything to help. He felt weak and at times, pathetic. He was her brother, _he was meant to protect her_ , not the other way around. Bran looked to see his sister mumbling things incoherently but chose to ignore them.

"I don't dream...not like her."

"We all dream, little Lord," Osha informed him. "Your sister dreams of things yet to come, doesn't she? What's to say you don't?"

"I don't dream," Bran insists but his thoughts still remained on his sister's dreams. He dreamt of her sometimes, in his dreams. A man of silver kidnapped her, surrounded her by fire and he watched hopelessly as the fire consumed and burnt everything away but them as they remained locked in an embrace. Bran looked up to see a red comet pass by in the dusk sky and his eyes widened significantly in wonder, "I have heard men talk about the Red Comet. They say that it's an omen. I think it means Robb will have a great victory in the North."

A scream suddenly was heard and it caused his attention to turn towards Lysara and he looked on in horror as she collapsed into the fire. He and Rickon let out shouts and screams as his sister fell into the flames, her dress set alight immediately. Osha's eyes widened as she dropped the leaves and rushed to his sister, the woman quickly dragged her away from the roaring flames, the dancing fire seemed anger in away at the fact that it did not get to consume them. Osha patted and batted out the flames that had since turned crimson material of his sister's dress black. Rickon started to cry, running over to their unconscious sister's side. He refused Hodor's help and pushed his upper arms up and crawled over until he was at his sister's side. And his eyes widened when he took in her face.

His sister had not been burnt. Although that was not what made his eyes widen, it was the blood. Her nose, eyes, ears and mouth was dripping with blood. Osha tilted Lysara's head gently to the side, letting the blood trickle from her mouth and it seemed, to prevent her from choking. Tears welled up in his eyes as he reached over and shook his sister's arm frantically, sobs rising in his throat but he pushed them back harshly.

"L-Lysara..." He started, shaking her roughly. "Wake up! Lysara!"

"W-What's wrong with her?" Rickon wept frightfully as he stared at her bloody face.

"I-I don't know..." Bran said hopelessly, looking towards Osha. "I..I...what's wrong with her?"

Osha merely ignored him and wrapped her arms around Lysara's neck, hoisting her up. He could hear his sister choke on her own blood. The tears continued to fall from his face as she passed his sister to Hodor, who cradled her gently in his arms, murmuring the same words to her in a soft mantra. The dark haired woman looked to him and managed to lift him up, hoisting him into her arms.

" _Lysara!_ "


	14. Chapter Thirteen

_Winterfell_

Lysara Stark

Lysara was uncertain of where she was but she knew that she must find her brother, the overwhelming whispers let her know after what seemed like an endless amount of darkness she was now dreaming and soon would awaken. The wind was gently swaying the leaves on the trees, the wind caressed her, unlike the violent whispers that were like sharpened knives pressing into her pale flesh. Lysara could not recall what had happened or how she came to be this way but what she did remember was an agonising, blinding pain and then she felt no more. Her grey eyes landed on the familiar crow, it cawed at her before flying above her head causing her to turn, only to still when her eyes settled on Brandon.

"Brandon?" Lysara demanded, causing him to turn and face her with a start, his eyes wide and his chest heaving as he adjusted his bow and arrow.

"Lysara..." He breathes, taking a hesitant step towards her. "You're _alive_."

"Aye. My flames will not extinguish until the Other is dead," She responds airily, reminiscing in the prophecy that the man that liberated her had gifted her with. "A woman of red, forged from ice shall become a flame. The red star bleeds...it does not bleed for the likes of Kings nor Queens. It bleeds for a Prince. The winds of winter will gather the darkness, Azor Ahai shall roam the earth once more reborn amidst smoke and salt. The Promised Prince has a song. A song of ice and fire. They shall raise their sword of fire and thrust it thrice into the dead man's heart. Ice nor fire can thrive whilst the other survives."

"You have been asleep for three days, Lysara," Bran tells her, causing her to still at his pleading tone, tears welling up in his eyes. "Please, wake up... _please_...It's Theon, he's-"

"I will. _I promise._ I can feel myself slipping back to our world," Lysara swore and nodded slightly.

It startled her to see Brandon walking, no running towards her. It bitterly reminded her of the series of the events that would be the downfall of her family along with the entirety of Westeros. His arms wrapped around her waist and they were locked in a tight embrace, she wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes, letting the whispers die down. The world was now graced with dragons, the _pure_ unearthly power from them hatching had engulfed her. The dragons were reborn from the ashes.

 _A dragon of ice. A dragon of fire. A dragon of blood._

 _The three headed dragon._

The caw of the three eyed crow caused them to break their embrace and when they turned to face it, snapping out of their trance. Lysara let her brows lift in mild surprise when she saw a boy ages with her in place of the crow. The strange figure took in their appearances, his eyes trailing across her brother's face and body before looking to her own. As he stares at them, she takes her time to study him. He had dirty blond hair, deep green eyes and sharp but youthful features. It was his eyes that drew her in. Lysara looked on with suspicion, her brother had long since raised his arrow and had it pointed towards the crowd.

"You cannot kill it," The stranger states turning his attention to her brother.

"Why not?" Her brother demands.

The stranger merely looks on, gifting them a small and barely visible smile, but she caught as it made its way onto his pale lips. His eyes were trained on her younger brother but she desperately tried to keep herself asleep as she felt the pull of the light. Her ruby glowed dimly as the skies darkened around them and a heavy fog rolled in, she watched as both the boy and the crow along with her brother disappeared but the boy's words lingered in her mind as she woke.

"The _crow_ is _you_ , Bran."

Lysara opens her eyes, lying awake in her bed. She extends out her hand and reaches out to try and seek the warmth that Rickon usually gave off but found nothing but a cold bed. Her brows furrowed together as she tried to process her dream. It seemed no one knew she was awake, so she took, this time, to take in everything that has happened; Her father lost his head. Her mother and brother will drown in red. Her youngest sister will become no one. Her auburn haired sister will become stone. And her wolf with wings...he will become a crow. Then she thought on Rickon-

The door opening wide had startled her immensely, drawing her from her thoughts. Lysara sat up and looked on impassively to see Theon standing there, with a smirk ever present. Her dreams were cruel, she could see everything that befell Winterfell when the Ironborn and their false God ravaged the lands, drowning all of them. Lysara looks up at him with a tilt of her head, arching her eyebrow as she stares blankly at him.

"You have lost your way, Theon Greyjoy," Lysara states, her voice hoarse. "You have let the false God take away your sense of direction. Let us pray that the Lord of Light does not seek his vengeance with you as he does others. If he does, I will let the man with a sharp blade take it. The blade of cruelty is sharp and you will fall on many sharp blades for what you have done to my home and to my brothers. The betrayal of our house. You were like that of a brother to Robb. You lived with us; my mother and father gave you food, shelter and a home. They gave you _love_."

"Home, Lady Lysara says." Theon mocks, his tone filled with scorn and bitterness. Her eyes landed on the Ironborn men that had gathered behind him as he stepped further into her chambers. "Winterfell. It was not my home, it was my prison. Your father, who you deem ever so noble took me from my home and my family and brought me here! You never accepted me, Lysara. Nor did Lady Catelyn. I can see the resemblance between you both now. The castle is no longer in your hold, Lysara. It's _mine!"_

"You dare insult my father...my father was worth ten of the likes of _you!_ " Lysara spits fiercely as she takes to her feet, clutching her necklace for support as she eyes him coldly. "You dare say my home is a prison...my home...it is a liberation! And as for the castle, it will never be yours nor will any other have a claim to it. Stark, a name so ancient and cold, a name that I wear with pride and honour. I run Winterfell! You nor any other will lay claim to it while I still draw breath. I will not hand over my home to you, Kraken!"

"You don't understand, Lysara. The castle _is_ mine," Theon says, hissing between his teeth.

"How so?" Lysara challenges.

"The castle is mine, along with everything in it; the food, the drink, the chambers, the weapons, the banners, the servants, the women, your brothers... _you_ ," Theon stated, a smirk crawling onto his face causing her to look on in disdain, with a raised eyebrow at his admission. _He thinks Winterfell will be his,_ Lysara scoffs to herself. _As long as I live and breathe, Winterfell will never be his._

"How so?" She asks again, before elaborating further. "You claim that the castle is yours. Yet, I have not given you my home. And besides, what would you even get from my brothers? Tell me, Theon. Do you honestly believe in your heart that I would bend to your will and let you take our home from us? You can threaten my brothers, that is all you are worth. Mere threats. You may bark all you wish but you do not follow through with the bite. And if you do have the gall to do so, do honestly believe I would let you or your men harm them? I would burn my home to the very ground with you in it before I let that happen. I promised I would burn anything to keep my brothers safe and I intend to keep that promise."

"It's not your brothers I want," Theon replies causing her to still in confusion. "It's _you_."

"And what is it you exactly want from me?" Lysara drawls.

"You will marry me," Theon said simply causing her lips to part in shock.

"You have not only lost your way but your damned mind! You are a Kraken, a Kraken that will freeze where he swims when winter comes for you," Lysara responds coldly. "You are scum. A turncoat. You betrayed my brother! You betrayed my father and mother! You betrayed _me._ My family and I treated you like a direwolf within our pack, we were your family and you would choose them...them over us!"

"You were never my family!" He shouts. "You have no choice!"

"I am Lysara Stark-" She begins, a soft smirk growing on her face as her eyes become downcast. "I _always_ have a choice. Besides, I do not see myself in your future. Now, I suggest you leave my chambers and bring my brothers along with Osha to me, unharmed of course, the heavy stench of fish is causing me to retch."

Theon stormed towards her, his boots thundering against the wooden floors in her chambers. Lysara raised an eyebrow, her smirk still present on her face as she looked up towards him but her smirk faded fast when a hand came in contact with her face. Lysara slowly looked back to him, reaching up and touched her split and heavily bleeding lip that was slowly swelling up from the harsh contact of his gloved hand. She took her hand away from her lip and placed her bloody fingers into her mouth, her eyes locked with his own.

"I shall wear this with remembrance," Lysara proclaims with a sneer.

"You will marry me, Lysara Stark. I need loyalty and I need your home and land, which I can only get through you and your brothers. You should feel flattered, not only would I like to bed you but you will become both a Princess of the Iron Islands and the North. I will send for Maester Luwin, I need you to look presentable for our wedding. I wonder what the bards will call it? The Grey Wedding? The Silver Wedding? It does not matter. However, you will not be seeing your brothers until the wedding. Goodbye, Lady Greyjoy." He leers, glancing at her briefly before he left her chambers, slamming the door behind him causing loose items in her room to shake and some scent bottles to shatter onto the floor.

She remained silent, the silence was all that was heard in her chambers before a sudden laugh escaped her lips as she kept her fingers to her sore, stinging lips. Her laughter echoed throughout her chambers, the fire pit in the corner roaring with new found life as she threw her head back and laughed _loudly_ , collapsing to her knees as she shook with laughter, her eyes filled with unshed tears. Lysara licked the crimson substance from her fingers once more before her eyes darkened and her body was shaking with sobs.

 _The night is dark and full of terrors. And I will cast the light upon you Greyjoy. You will burn._

* * *

"I am glad you have awakened," Maester Luwin said gently, applying an ointment to her bruised lips and cheek.

"The Kraken needs to die," Lysara murmurs, keeping her jaw clenched at the sting of him touching her tender face.

"I agree, my Lady." He informs her, humming as he inspects her face. "The bruising should fade in a moon cycle's time."

"Has he harmed my brothers?" She inquires.

"No. Bran and Rickon are fine," Maester Luwin says, his voice filled with relief yet sadness.

"The bastard wants to marry me. He wants to become Lord of Winterfell," Lysara tells him stiffly, trying to suppress a shudder but couldn't help but grimace when Maester Luwin touches a tender part of her face. "If I do not, he will kill my brothers. I have seen it. I have dreamt of them lying at his feet as Winterfell is drowning. If they die, Maester Luwin...If they die, I would lose my mind...my soul...my fire and light. My younger brothers mean more to me than my own beating heart."

"I know, my Lady. You love them fiercely, as do I," He said. "I will protect the boys. And Osha, she has kept her word. The woman has never left their side once. They are safe. Do not fret. I will not let them witness whatever it is that you will do to the Ironborn. I can see it in your eyes...the vengeance. Your brothers will remain ignorant of it. I swear to you, by the Old and by the New, Lady Lysara. I swear to you by the love and admiration I held for your mother and father. I will not fail you."

"Have you somehow sent word to my brother and mother?" She inquired. "To my uncles?"

"Yes, I was able to. The Ironborn think I hold no loyalties to anyone other than Winterfell," Maester Luwin informs her, while he dabs at her face with the ointment that is gradually taking the sting from her wound. His wise, kind eyes were knowing and firm. "I hold no loyalties to anyone except those who wear the name _Stark._ Though, may I inquire how you intend to handle them? How you intend to handle the likes of Theon?"

"I will handle Theon Greyjoy. I know how his mind works," Lysara stated, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she passed Maester Luwin a folded up piece of parchment and wrapped his frail fingers around it tightly, just as a soldier marched into her chambers. Lysara leant over to Maester Luwin and murmured, "I know more than one way to skin and fillet a Kraken."

"Time's up. The Lady needs her rest," The man sneers.

The man roughly dragged Maester Luwin from her chambers, leaving her alone with her devious thoughts and plotting mind once more. Lysara poured herself a goblet of wine, she looked at the purple liquid and saw her reflection. Lysara swirled the liquid inside of the goblet before raising it to her lips and took a small sip, she pulled the goblet away from her lips, staring at the fire that filled her chambers with warmth and hummed in satisfaction at the wine's delicious and sweet flavouring.

 _The night is dark and full of terrors, allow me to burn those terrors away, R'hllor._

* * *

Lysara kept the laces at the front of her dress loose as she made her way towards Theon's chambers, a wine pitcher held firmly in her hands. She spared a sidelong glance to the Ironborn soldiers walking at either side of her, she scoffed lightly before slipping into the Kraken's chambers. Theon's frown turned into a smug smile as he eyed, he crossed his legs and placed his feet upon the table while he leant back in his chair. Lysara's grip clenched on the pitcher as she kept her eyes on him, watching his every movement.

"You have agreed to my proposition, it seems. You truly are wise," Theon muses.

"As I said, I _always_ have a choice," She says lowly. "When are we to be wed? Have you decided upon a date?"

"After the next moon," He answers. "I have all the arrangements made. All you have to do is look pretty in a frock."

"I want to be married within the week," Lysara informs him. His eyebrows raise and he makes a move to speak but she continues, keeping her voice low and calm. "After all, I took the time to consider your offer. And I quite like it. Although, I do have some terms and conditions. I have wishes I want to have fulfilled."

"Go ahead. If it is in my power, which it probably will be...I will allow it," Theon responds, before sitting up properly instead of his casual slouch.

"The first term is that you will allow me to keep my religion," Lysara states, making her way towards him carefully. "I have worshipped R'hllor for many years. And I will do so until my final breath."

"Fine," He sighs, sitting up further in his seat. "Anything else, my Lady?"

"My brothers, Brandon and Rickon will not be harmed by you nor your men. They will be safe," Lysara said while she takes a wine goblet from a nearby table and begins to slowly pour the wine, keeping her eyes on him as she places the pitcher down and takes the wine goblet. She raises her mouth to the wine goblet and sips from it, before slowly licking her lips, knowing that it was drawing him in and soon would ensnare him in her trap. "I want them guarded. They mean more to me than the stars you can count. It would please me greatly if they were well."

"Alright," He responds as she prowls towards him, her eyes lidded. "Done. Anything else?"

" _Take me_ ," Lysara purrs, handing him the goblet and slowly lets her dress drop to the floor. "If I am to be your wife as you say, I wish to see if the whores who speak of your talents are true to their words." She watches in satisfaction as he licks his lips, his eyes growing dark with lust while he takes in her naked body and she watches with raised eyebrows as he downs his wine. "Let us make a night of it. You have your wine and now you have your woman, what more could you desire? May I refill your goblet?"

"Yes."

She made her way over to collect the wine pitcher, her eyes glinting dangerously before they became lidded again and she planted an ever sweet smile on her face as she approached him once more, pouring another goblet of wine for Theon and tilted her head to the side, waiting expectantly for him to drink it. He didn't. Theon raises a brown, placing the goblet to his mouth to take another sip except he doesn't, he stills and looks to her, peering into her grey eyes.

"You look parched," Theon comments.

"As do you..." Lysara retorts softly, crawling onto his lap. A hand grasps her waist tightly, his blunt nails digging into her skin causing her to inwardly wince but she refuses to let the pain she felt show. He tilts his head up, his goblet held tightly in his hand before their eyes meet.

"We will drink together," He replies dismissively.

"No. I'd rather not. I have had plenty of drink," She insists.

"No, Lysara," Theon coldly voices, letting go of her waist and pulls out a dagger from his belt and tilts the blade up, pressing it into her chin. " _Drink."_

"Together?" She offers, raising the goblet slowly to her lips as he does the same.

" _Together,"_ He confirms, sealing his fate as she sips.

Lysara's ruby necklace glows dimly as she downs the wine before passing it to him and he does the same after a few moments, she crawls off his lap and stands above him, cocking her head to the side. She could feel a fire burning within her, a sweat breaking out onto her face as a smirk appears shortly after when she sees the dazed look on his face. Her lips then twitch into a cruel smile as she takes the dagger out of his ever weakening hold and stares at him as he looks on at her wide, angered eyes.

"Y-You stupid bitch!" Theon growls as blood starts to run down his face. "You-"

" _Poison,"_ Lysara replies, the smile widening on her face as she pulls out a light blue phial and places it in his weak hand.

Theon's raspy curses and hoarse cries fall silent to her ears as she turns and bends down, picking up her dress and the skirts of her crimson garb, covering her body. Lysara places the goblet back down on the table before slipping out of his chambers and into the darkened halls, that were slowly lighting up from the candles that flickered at either side of her when she made her way for her brother, Brandon's chambers where she knew both her brothers would be.

* * *

Author's Note: Hi! Hopefully you like Chapter Thirteen, let me know what you think and if you have any questions about this chapter or any other chapter, feel free to ask and I'll happily answer them. Let me know what you think about Lysara as a character! I'd like to thank all of you for reading this story, for leaving a review and for following and for making this story one of your favourites.

 _Reviews-_

timijaf: I haven't fully decided on if I am going to make him a Blackfyre or not but he will play a major part in the story later on along with Jon and Daenerys, without giving too much away.

lilnudger82: Thank you for reviewing! And I'm glad you are enjoying this story so far. I was hoping Lysara did give off that 'worse days to come' vibe, I didn't really want to have her as a 'hero' or to be light hearted, I'm putting her as more of 'chaotic good' or an 'anti hero'. Yep, the men in Lysara's life (particularly her younger brothers will have it tough).

ATP: In this chapter she does stop Theon, so hopefully you like that. She won't be marrying Ramsay or any other but she will encounter him in later chapters.

RHatch89: Thank you! Hopefully this chapter doesn't disappoint.

Guest: I've kept them all safe for now but there will be consequences to her actions.

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you! Hopefully you like this chapter!

TWDzombie: Hopefully you like this new update. As for Lysara, I consider her personality like the scales of justice in a weird sort of way. Though she is two-faced. On one scale, she can show this caring side to the one important thing in her life other than her religion which is her younger brothers and the chaos, on the other side of the scale disrupts that balance and I hopefully have shown that she will and can be capable of ruthlessly killing/manipulating someone to keep her brothers safe.

celticank: Thank you, I'm glad you think so! I'm glad you think Lysara is badass. And yes, R+L=J is canon and it will play a major part to the story in future chapters.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

_Winterfell_

Lysara Stark

" _Hello, milady_."

Her eyes landed on the Ironborn situated at her brother Brandon's chambers, her downcast eyes glanced up and she took in his armour before noticing his leering face as he stared at her, his hand firmly on his sword. Lysara eyed the sword at his waist and looked at him with lidded eyes. In order to get passed him and to get to her brothers, he must die. She stalked forward slowly, her eyes trained on him and the knife well hidden beneath her crimson clothing.

"Ser," She nodded. "I was taking a stroll."

"A stroll?" The Ironborn asked, lifting a brow in disbelief at her.

"Aye. I couldn't sleep. I had thought to go to Prince Theon...but he was with another," Lysara said hoarsely, in an attempt to sound disheartened.

The dark haired man merely released his hold on the sword at his side and leant back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest with a tilted head. He seemed to be inspecting her with curiosity and the lust was evident in his eyes, the mere look he gave her made her suppress a shiver of disgust. The disdain she held towards the likes of the vile, overgrown fish lusting after her made her skin crawl.

"I cannot believe the likes of him refused you," The man smirked. "I'd make you my salt wife."

"You would?" Lysara asked breathlessly, taking a step closer.

She regained her composure, taking a small and steady step closer towards him. The man kept his eyes trained on the most _intimate_ parts of her body, making him unable to see the sinister look she held in her eyes for him. Lysara knew she was close to him but she was not close enough to shove the knife into his eye and out the back of his skull. Though she also knew while he was looking at her with lust, he was also looking at her to see if she was telling him the truth. It took years of practice but she became a skilled liar with a serpent tongue. Lysara has lied all her life. To her mother. To her father. To her siblings. To her home. Her family may be noble, honourable and loyal...but she was not. Lysara capable of killing mercilessly. She needed to be ruthless in order for her younger brothers to live.

No matter how many lives she takes. She would keep them safe like she promised.

 _Promise me, Lysara._

Robb's voice echoed like a mantra in her eyes, like a never ending drum pounding the words into her mind, heart and soul. Her very being. Lysara moved forward towards the Ironborn, carefully and slowly stopping near him at the wall and took in his horrible and disgusting features, their eyes never going astray from one another. His eyes were not like Jory's, his eyes held nothing but affection, adoration and awe for her. His eyes weren't purple like the man she dreams of. This man's, this man's eyes made her skin _crawl_ but nevertheless she would do what she was taught to do. _Endure._ And with that, her red lips curled into a suggestive smirk.

Lysara was taken briefly by surprise when he reached out and grasped her, harshly throwing her against the stone wall. His lips moved against her neck and she looked ahead, her lips twisting into a sneer at the disgusting creature that lay his hands on her. This was _vile._ Lysara let her grey eyes flutter close and pretended she was far off somewhere else, she liked imagining herself in the God's Wood with her siblings but when he dug his teeth into her neck it brought her back to the hell she was truly living in. She slowly drew out the knife but he turned her around so that her stomach was pressed against the wall and she cursed, her eyes opening and she looked on at the bricks with a fierceness.

"Those whelps you call brothers...they will die soon. I'll see to it. I already slit the throat of that Maester," The man leered, biting and then tugging at her ear.

She stilled at his admission. _Maester Luwin,_ Lysara thinks to herself in horror as the words slowly dawned on her. _He killed him._ Her eyes grew dark, tears of bitterness and sadness welled up in her eyes but she refused to let them fall. Lysara felt a fire roar within her as he continued to speak ill of Maester Luwin. The final grope of her breast was when she pressed her hands against the wall and spun around so that she was facing him once more. He gave her an irritated look, placing his hand around her neck and dug his blunt and dirtied nails into her flesh causing her to wheeze out a hiss.

"I want you from behind," He growled.

"No. I want you to look at my face-" Lysara said softly as she slipped the knife from underneath her dress and gripped it tightly as she placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned forward, so that her lips were at his left ear and her voice turned colder than the Northern winds as she spoke up once more, gripping the knife tighter than she ever has which caused the tips of her fingers to tingle. "As my face will be the last thing you will ever see."

He stiffened but before he could fully comprehend what she said, she pounced on him, straddling him and then in one quick movement, thrust the knife into his shoulder. He cried out, his eyes wide with the fear of death and of her. The blood poured from both his wound and his mouth as he let out a gargled cry, no doubt trying to alert nearby Ironborn soldiers. Lysara held the dagger up high above her before bringing it back down on him for the second time. Then a third. Then a forth. Then a fifth. Then a sixth. Then a seventh...

"Y-You...Y-You are a _demon_..." He rasped, bloody spit trailing down his chin as he looked up at her with glassy and vacant eyes.

" _A man has said,"_ Lysara spoke impassively before bringing the knife down for an eighth and final time.

The Ironborn soldier slumped to the floor, his chest no longer rising nor falling and his eyes void and dull. Lysara slipped the bloody knife from his throat while she stood up. And with that, she turned and opened the door wide to Brandon's chambers before entering. Lysara knew that they must leave now for if they did not, _they_ would find them and kill them. Osha was at the door with a sharpened stick, poised for the attack but stilled on taking a swing when she saw her, her eyes widened significantly when she saw the blood that covered her. Her small brother ran and lunged at her, she bent down and hoisted him up into her arms and buried her face into his locks, closing her eyes in relief that they hadn't been harmed.

"We have to go," Lysara said firmly, pulling away from Rickon and looked over to Bran, who was held by Hodor. Her younger brother cocked his head to the side and nodded, unable to speak as his eyes were trained on the body of the dead soldier that lay next to her feet. "We have to go. We can't stay here, Brandon. We have to leave Winterfell. _For now._ I killed Theon and an Ironborn soldier...They will come after us. They will want to gorge on our blood."

"Where will we go?" Bran questioned.

" _North._ " _To Jon._

Summer and Shaggydog prowled out of the door; their eyes feral, their teeth bared and sharpened as they let out low snarls, preparing to attack anyone that would come close to them. Hodor thundered out of the chambers, holding Bran and Osha followed shortly after them. Lysara set Rickon down, taking his wrist firmly in her hold and together they quickly ran down the hall. In her other hand, she kept the knife at her side, her knuckles had grown white from the tight grip she held on to the handle of the blade with and she was ready to kill anyone that would dare advance on them.

As they made their way into the courtyard, she put her faith in both R'hllor and the direwolves, to lead them into the woods. Lysara stilled, hearing the roars and the commands of the Ironborn. Her eyes widened and she hoisted up Rickon, picking up her pace but stilled in both horror and shock when she heard a voice that was all too familiar. _How can this be?_ Lysara asks herself and turns around to face them, a look of utter surprise and fright on her face.

"Lysara! _"_

 _Theon._ He pushed passed several Ironborn harshly and there he stood, living and breathing, shouting orders at his men as he looked upon her lividly. Theon's face was paler than usual, his face was covered in blood and she watched as blood continued to seep from both his nose, eyes and mouth. His eyes were wild and ablaze. Lysara cursed herself for her stupidity, knowing that she should have gutted him with the knife to finish him off.

" _Come on!"_ Osha screeched, snapping her out of her trance.

She nodded and hoisted Rickon up further, holding him tightly to her chest and fled into the woods just as they began to fire arrows upon them. Her chest rose and fell harshly, her heart thundering painfully against her chest. Her skin was sticky with both sweat and blood as she ran further into the woods, never once looking back and only kept looking ahead at the sprinting Osha, who kept looking back at her every know and then with a frantic and manic look.

They had been running through the woods for what felt like hours, daylight would soon come soon and that is what she dreaded the most, they would be able to find them easier in the light than within the shadows. _R'hllor,_ Lysara prayed fiercely as they took a break in a nearby clearing in the woods next to a river that had long since frozen over. _Guide us. Protect our light from the darkness, for the night, is dark and full of terrors and those terrors will come into our light._ The noise of the woods had brought about paranoia, as every snap of a twig or hoot of an owl, she thought it was the Ironborn soldiers.

"We have to keep running," Osha pants as she sharpens her stick. "We can't stop."

"I k-know..." Lysara gasps, struggling to regain her breath.

Lysara stills when Shaggydog and Summer let out unearthly grows, staring at a particular part of the woods as their ears flatten and they snarl threateningly. Rickon whimpers and launches himself at her, wrapping his arms around her neck and buries his head into her neck. At hearing Rickon's whimpers, Shaggydog's threatening noises turn vicious as the direwolf gnashes his teeth together. Osha had set to work, skinning an animal for them to eat with the knife Lysara had given her and Brandon was talking to her in hushed whispers, while Hodor stomped around ungracefully. The three of them did not pay any mind to the direwolves. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end when Rickon pushes away from her and scrambles back with wide and fearful eyes, causing her own to widen.

"Rickon, what's wrong?" Lysara asks.

"Behind you!" He cries.

Osha's head snaps up and she turns around to see two Ironborn archers, firing arrows towards them. Lysara is harshly shoved against a nearby tree by a pair of small hands and she watches on with wide eyes as Osha drops the hare and dives at the man with the knife. Lysara looks on in anticipation as Osha brings up the knife and guts the first man before she attacks the second man but before Osha brought down the knife to the second man having already brought him to his knees, she stills and looks behind her with wide eyes. At first, she thinks that it is more Ironborn but as she turns...she could only look on with a small and painful moan.

 _Rickon._

He had shoved her out of the way and instead, the arrow had buried itself into his belly. She watches on in horror as Rickon whimpers softly, shakily clutching the arrow sticking out of him with two small, chubby hands and yanks it from his belly. Bran lets out a yell as Lysara launches herself at Rickon, catching him before he could fall to the cold and harsh ground. She repeats the mantra of 'no' under her breath, holding him close to her as he cries softly. Rickon let out another whimper and she finds herself unable to contain her own whimper, feeling tears fall from her eyes.

" _Why?"_ Lysara croaks harshly with a small and shaky hand he reaches up and grasps her dark locks softly.

"I-I'm y-your brother," Rickon breathes shallowly, tears falling down his cheeks. "I...I'm m-meant to protect you..."

" _Hush._ Save your breath, my wild wolf," Lysara says softly and presses her hand firmly against the wound, to try and stop the heavy flow of blood in desperation to save him, having his head in her lap. Their eyes never avert away from each other. And their eyes were mirrored then, despite his being blue and her own being grey but they both mirrored the same emotion. _Fear._ "You will be fine, Rickon. I promise. I will fix it...I promise..."

"I-I'm _afraid_!" He squeaks, more tears fall from his eyes but she swiftly wipes them away with her knuckle. "I-I...I don't want to _die!"_

Lysara could not help but let a sob escape her lips as she held him closer to her and looked up in sorrow towards Bran, who had silent tears falling from his face and he looked at her pleadingly. _Save him,_ Bran begged her silently. She shook her head and cursed herself, squeezing her eyes shut as tears fell from her eyes and dripped onto her youngest brother's face as she held him gently. Lysara had never felt so _pathetic_ , so... _helpless_ than she did with her brother dying in her very arms.

"I-I love you," Lysara tells him fiercely, cradling his dying body, clinging onto him. "I love you so, so much. Don't cry, my sweet wolf. _Don't cry._ You must be brave."

"L-Lysara," He rasps, his grip on her slackening but she grips on tighter, in turn, wanting him to hold on. " _I don't want to die."_

"I will roam these lands...until we meet again-" Lysara begins, her voice wavering but nevertheless she continues as tears fall from her eyes, no matter how difficult it was for her. She did not care about herself nor anyone else, only her little brother. "I will wait until we meet again. I will wait forever if that is how long it takes, I will _wait._ I will love you until the end of time..."

Rickon's grip went slack and his vacant eyes stare back at her, filled with tears and his breathing slows before finally stilling. Lysara stares for a few moments before her face crumples up, tears sliding down her face as bends over him and wails. She screams and screams, unable to do anything but claw at her face and neck. And scream. Lysara slowly picked him up in her embrace, wrapping him in her crimson clothing and held him, staring blankly at the ground and rocked him back and forth until body grew cold. His light was gone, death having claimed him. The only sound that filled her ears was her own wails and the mournful howling of direwolves, howling into the still night.

* * *

Lysara glanced impassively down at her younger brother his body lay still against her arms and she let out a shuddering breath before releasing him, setting him gently against the cold ground of the woods. Her fingers shakily reached out and shut his eyes. The whispers were gone, she no longer could hear the whispers of what was to come and with that, she rose to her feet. Shaggydog was beside her, whimpering and howling lowly underneath his breath as he stared on at both her and Rickon. He nipped at her ankles as if to tell her not to leave but...she couldn't.

Lysara turns and faces the man who had killed her brother, tied to a tree by Osha. Her cold eyes were level with his own and she noticed a small amount of fear in his eyes, she walked slowly towards them before turning and bending down, picking up a small torch from the fire that was made. As if sensing his fate, he began to struggle harshly against his bindings. Lysara approached him with the torch burning brightly in her hand and ignoring his pleas, threw the torch next to the man's feet and watched as the tree caught fire. Lysara stood in silence watching the fire grow higher and harsher. The flames dancing against the man pulled her into a trance, she ignored his screams as she watched him burn.

"Do you want to know how I feel?" Lysara asked softly, looking on at the man as the flames creep up his body and he writhes in agony, throwing his head back and screams. "That, that is how I feel."

Lysara turns away from the man, no longer wanting to look upon the face of her brother's killer and picks up her skirts that were brushing against the ground and begins to walk away, ignoring the screams erupting from the Ironborn scums mouth. Her eyes were blank as she stared on at the dark woods and kept walking with Shaggydog biting at her ankles until a voice made her stop in her tracks.

"Bring him back," A voice fiercely spoke.

This caused her to look over her shoulder, finding the source of the voice to be her brother, Brandon, who held a cold gaze, unflinching to the worshipper of the false God's screams. _I can't_ Lysara's grey eyes solemnly said but Brandon merely shook his head both Summer and Shaggydog snapping and snarling at her causing her to stiffen. Her eyes reluctantly look on at the body of her youngest brother, laying still and unmoving on the ground as she shakes her head.

"I...It is not within my power-"

"You can," Brandon insisted, grasping onto Hodor tighter. "I know you can."

" _I can't_ ," Lysara whispers pathetically with a shake of her head.

"Why not?" He demands, tears falling from his eyes.

" _It hurts_ ," She states hoarsely, tears rising in her pained eyes and claws at her ruby necklace as she shook her head. Lysara was unable to look her brother in the eye, knowing that she had failed them, that she had failed to keep her promise to her mother, to her father and to her brother. She had failed her father. She had failed her mother. She had failed her brothers and sisters. _Herself._ "It hurts so much...Brandon...I cannot."

" _Try!_ " Her brother spits, his eyes narrowing in anger and pain as he urges Hodor to walk closer to her. "You once told me that your God has greater plans for me, he does for _Rickon._ You will bring him back. I will let you cry and weep about how much it hurts but you do not give up! You won't give up on our brother!"

The screams had since died down. The man that had killed her brother was consumed by flame. She stilled, slowly turning to face her youngest brother and knelt beside him, stroking his unruly locks and with another hand, cupped his cold and clammy cheek that was grey from death. It hurt. Her brother was her wild wolf, filled with life and laughter and it had been taken from him with a single arrow.

 _I'll burn them all._

Her eyes darted blankly to the man that had been tied to the burning tree and had long since died, no doubt from the agonising pain but she found herself looking on in a sickening satisfaction at the fact that she had caused him pain...like he caused her...like he caused her brothers. The fire that had eaten him roared with life once more and with that, she looked back towards her brother. _Try,_ Brandon's voice echoed in her mind firmly as she picked up Rickon's head and let it rest on her lap.

 _Promise me, Lysara_.

" _I ask of R'hllor, the Lord to shine his light upon us and to lead this soul from the darkness. The night is dark and full of terrors, let his laughter and love vanquish your foes."_ Lysara murmured, feeling a warmth build up within her and her ruby glowed brighter, brighter than it ever has as she prayed. Her eyes darted up to the sky as the fire spread across to the other trees, creating a ring of fire around them as she looked to see dawn approach colouring the sky in both purple and orange. " _I beg the Lord to share my fire, to let me light a fire that has gone out."_

Lysara felt the whispers flutter into her ears, she listened to them intently but kept her gaze ever hard on the night sky, watching the stars dance above the flames that had engulfed the woods around them. She chanted the mantra many times before the whispers came to an abrupt stop, allowing her to look back down and face her younger brother, both of her hands cupping his face.

" _From darkness, light. From fire, ashes. And from death...life."_

Lysara closed her eyes and bent down, pressing a light, gentle and short kiss to his parted lips. She reopened her eyes, visions consuming her which caused her to feel sick. After she pulled away, her chest heaving and panting, she looked over to Bran who held nothing but pure horror on his face as the fire gradually died down and burnt out. And then she looked to Osha, who looked upon her with wariness yet fascination. Lysara let Rickon's head lay on the ground once more before she stood up.

She waited...for something, _anything_ to happen but when nothing did, her hopes were dashed and she gave a solemn nod, turning to walk away. Shaggydog looked to her, his ears flattened and let out high pitched whines as Lysara began to make her way out of the clearing. A small, barely heard gasp sounded causing her to still and she spun sharply on her heel to face the source of the noise, her mouth fell agape and her eyes grew dazed. _Rickon._

His eyes were open, wide and afraid. His chest, rising and heaving quickly, to match the gasps of air he sucked in. Her heart clenched painfully, tears consisting of many emotions sliding down her cheeks as she stared on at her youngest brother. _Let him live,_ Lysara encouraged fiercely to R'hllor. _Fill him with your ever burning fire. And I will ensure that it shall never burn out._ Rickon's eyes were wild, his head snapping towards her in terror as his chest rose and fell harshly.

"L-Lysara..." Rickon began, his voice hoarse as his eyes darted towards her. "I...It was so _dark_ and _cold..."_

"What did you dream of, Rickon?" Lysara asked lightly, dismissing his last statement and knelt by him, a face filled with utter awe.

"It was warm," He responded, causing her to still at the fear still present in his eyes. "I dreamt of fire. I had this awful dream...I dream that I tried to save you, l-like I promised R-Robb. You w-were kneeling over me...crying. Your ruby was glowing brightly. I dreamt of a light...it was h-horrible..."

"It was a _dream_ , my wild wolf," Lysara says, her voice hushed as she pulls him into a gentle embrace and rests her chin on his head, her eyes never leaving Brandon's. "Hush. It was all a dream, that is all it was."

* * *

Author's Note: Hey guys, hopefully you like Chapter Fourteen. If you have any questions about this chapter or any other chapter or on Lysara, feel free to ask! I'd like to thank all of you for reading this story, for following and for making this story one of your favourites. I'd like to thank everyone that has reviewed but a special thanks to Saint River who has reviewed each chapter.

 _Reviews-_

JimmyHall24: Yeah, I totally agree with that, in future chapters to come you will definitely see her practising fire magic.

timijah: Thank you, hopefully you like this chapter!

njk: Thank you! I hope you like this update.

ATP: I agree with you certain deaths can totally be avoided but I suppose it wouldn't be Game of Thrones without those deaths.

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you! I hope you like Chapter 14.

celticank: I hope this chapter surprised you but I couldn't kill him off just yet, she gave him a poison that was equivalent to bleach but unfortunately it didn't kill him like she wanted.

RHatch89: Thank you! I'm glad you like her.

Saint River: Although I've already replied to your messages, I felt I should thank you personally on here as well. Thank you for leaving all those reviews on my chapters!


	16. Chapter Fifteen

_The North_

Bran Stark

It was the night terrors of Lysara that stirred Bran from his restless sleep, one moment he dreamt of becoming a direwolf and the next he dreamt of Lysara setting the Wall on fire. He opened his eyes to find himself laid gently at the bottom of a tree, his head propped up by various cloaks and furs. The smell of a fire let him know that his sister was nearby and it brought him comfort in a way. The fire was her scent. He could always smell the hint of burning wood and essences that linger on her skin, hair and clothing. The growling of Summer grew louder causing him to struggle up with his elbows and he looked to both Osha and Summer. Summer's growls were low and harsh, his ears flattened and his eyes widened at Osha, who held her spear out looking at the ominous fog that had developed late last night.

"Where's Lysara, Rickon and Hodor?" Bran asked panicked, his heart racing as a sweat formed on his forehead.

"They're looking for food," Osha said in a hushed voice which caused him to quieten.

"What do you see?" Bran questioned, his voice lower than before.

Bran did not feel safe, it did not help the fact that Osha herself did not know and had taken it upon herself to investigate, disappearing into the thick and eerie fog causing him to shudder. He wished for his older sister at this moment, hoping she would return at that very moment. He did not like being left alone even with his direwolf. His heart raced, hammering against his chest as he looked around with a panic stricken face. His eyes widened when he turned his head and saw a lithe figure emerging from the cold fog. Summer's growls grew more vicious and feral with each step the figure took.

"L-Lysara..." Bran began, calling out for his sister. His eyes trained on the figure. "Lysara!"

The figure now stood in front of him, looking down at him with a shadow of a smile but Summer blocked his path. The boy was about ages with his elder sister, perhaps a year or two younger but they both looked to be the same age nonetheless. His sister always looked older than she was, despite being ten and six years of age, her troubles with sleep had aged her. It darkened her eyes like it has done this boy. The boy's head was cocked to the side, his blond hair unruly and tangled as if he had not tended to it for a while. A dark green cloak adorned his body and hung from the back of his shoulders and was draped around him, covering most of his clothing.

The boy took another step forward but as he was about to, Bran's eyes widened significantly when he saw Osha creep up behind the boy and pressed her spear to the back of his neck as Summer snarled. His snarls echoing hauntingly throughout the woods. Bran hoped that Lysara had finished tending to Rickon's...wound and that she and Hodor would hear them and hurry back. Osha growled at him, pressing her spear further into his neck, not enough to draw any blood but it seemed it was enough to make her threat clear for the boy.

"If you take another step...you will choke on your own blood, boy," Osha said, her voice dark and threatening.

"I am unarmed," The boy spoke simply with a mere shrug of his shoulders.

"That was poor planning then," Osha responded as a smirk made its way onto her face. "You should have a weapon on you. You never know who might be lurkin' around these parts."

The boy dressed in dark and mud green clothing stilled, he seemed to be contemplating before telling them, "It is my sister who carries the weapons."

Bran's eyes widened further when a pale skinned girl with brown, short and curly hair that resembled his own and with deep, round eyes emerged from the fog and drew a large dagger to Osha and held it against her neck. He looked on in silence, his breath quickening when he took in her attire and noticed that she was dressed similarly to the boy. Bran eyed the boy, his brows furrowing at the familiarity of the boy. He looked familiar to him but he could not figure why he did.

"Drop the spear," The girl ordered fiercely but Osha refused, merely scoffing and pressed the spear to his neck harder. " _Drop it."_

"If you kill me-" Osha began, her breath ragged. "I will be brought back. I've seen it. The woman we're with, she will come back and she will burn you alive. You'll die screaming. Do you fancy that sort of death, girl?"

The young girl dressed in green looked over to his growling direwolf warily before looking to the boy near him. Bran looked on with apprehension as the boy stuck out his hand and made his way slowly over to Summer, despite his flattened ears, bared teeth and growling. His heart didn't slow as he looked on with wide eyes as the boy murmured incoherently to his wolf.

"You must be Summer," The boy said while he extended his fisted hand out to the wolf.

As the boy stared intently into the yellow eyes of Summer, the growls and snarls slowly died down as he trotted over and inhaled the boy's scent deeply. _Why would he react like this?_ Bran thought as Summer lightly pressed his wet nose against the boy's hand before stalking off. His heart leapt into his throat as he looked from the stranger to his wolf, who disappeared into the mist. The boy's eyes were solely fixated on him.

"I am Jojen, Jojen Reed and this-" The boy informs him and steps to the side to reveal his companion. "This is my sister Meera, Meera Reed."

"Lysa-" Bran began to call but before he could a vicious snarl echoed in the woods and Shaggydog came bounding towards Meera and Osha, circling them and snapping his jaws as he snarled. The direwolf's bright green eyes were trained on Meera, never leaving her as he poised to attack. His eyes darted to Rickon who ran for his side and then to his sister, who emerged from the mist like a fire and before he knew it, 'Jojen' had a knife at his throat. His sister towards over the boy like a giant. _He looks familiar...but why?_ Bran asks himself.

"I was wondering when you would arrive," Jojen informed them with a small, slanted smile.

It seemed he was not surprised at all but neither was his sister, who had her eyes narrowed and she pressed the knife further into his throat when he took a step forward. Bran noticed red trickle down the pale flesh of the boy and he knew then that if his sister pressed the knife in any further, the boy would have his throat slit causing him to swallow soundly. Lysara's grey and ferocious eyes landed on him, she seemed to be assessing if he was harmed but when he gave a light nod of his head, showing that he was alright, her eyes darted back to Meera.

"Let her go-" Lysara started coldly, looking to Meera who held a dagger to Osha's throat.

" _Or what?_ " Meera asked.

"Or I will cut your brother's throat!" Lysara hissed, pressing her nose against Jojen's ear and breathed harshly.

Shaggydog growled, snapping and gnashing his teeth at Meera. In a way, it seemed his sister was becoming Shaggydog. His sister's eyes were blank and he knew then that this was the side of his sister he did not like, the side that was shown as of now, could kill without a thought. Bran was awake that night when she promised to burn the world for him and Rickon and after witnessing what her powers could fully do...she frightened him. He feared her rather than death. The screams of the burning men still echoing hauntingly and sickeningly in his mind. It often made him wonder, how far she would be willing to go to keep him and their brother safe. _How many men and women, possibly children could die at her hand for the sake of their safety?_

"Lysara," Bran called. "Please. Let him go. I trust them."

"You trust them?" Lysara scoffed lightly, looking on at him as if he was stupid causing his frown to deepen. "You do not know them, Brandon."

"We know him, Lysara," Bran informed her pleadingly causing her to slacken the knife slightly from Jojen's neck. "We saw him in our dreams...I swear."

Her cold eyes hardened further and she turned Jojen around to face her, her knife was still at his throat but it was looser than before. Bran looked on as she scrutinised him, her eyes no doubt staring into his very soul. Her eyes darted from Jojen to Meera and she looked on with an impassive look on her face when she saw that Meera still held Osha with a dagger to her throat. For a moment, Bran was certain she would kill him but she merely gripped his shoulder tighter, no doubt leaving bruises and nail marks.

"I care not for who he or she is," Lysara told him and Shaggydog seemed to snarl his approvals. _They have a strange relationship,_ Bran thinks to himself on his sister and Rickon's direwolf. He did not know if the direwolf liked her because of her strong connection with their younger brother or the fact that the feral direwolf preferred the feral woman that helped birth him. "As long as Meera of House Reed has a dagger at Osha's throat she remains my enemy as does her brother if she does not release Osha."

"It is okay," Jojen assured Meera, looking across to her. "Let her go. No harm will come to me."

"I wouldn't be so certain," Osha sneered.

Meera rolled her eyes and scoffed but reluctantly looked on in defeat, releasing her dagger from Osha's throat and pushed her towards Lysara. Lysara, in turn, released the knife from Jojen's throat and grasped onto Osha, shoving Jojen harshly to Meera. Lysara whistled for Shaggydog and watched as he trotted towards her before sitting at her side. He had seen it, it was every now and then he saw the second side of his sister. The grey eyes of his sister held a child like innocence, thought it came and went as quickly as it entered her eyes but he had seen it and that second side of his sister made him hope.

"We are not your enemies, Lysara Stark," Jojen tells her.

"You will not have my brother, green seer," Lysara said, her voice cold as the Northern winds.

 _She sounds like father,_ Bran thinks to himself.

"It is not your brother we seek. Dreamer of fire, speaker of flames," Jojen responds, just as swift as his sister. Jojen's eyes land on him and their eyes lock, dark Reed green meeting Tully blue. "Meera and I have travelled a long way to find both you and your brothers. I am afraid winter is coming and the dead will come with it, we have come a long way to find you and now we have a long way to go. We must go-"

" _North._ " Lysara interrupts. Her suspicious eyes remained on Jojen and Meera. "We seek North."

* * *

 _Griffin's Roost_

Young Griff

Aegon placed his hand in the burning fire that was present in the cold hall and closed his eyes, letting the warmth tenderly lick his skin. It has been a week since they had attacked Griffin's Roost, conquered it and won. He could not be more pleased with the outcome. Aegon was one step closer; to vengeance, to his throne, to becoming King. To his she-wolf, that will be no doubt in Winterfell. He took in the hall with his dark purple eyes and took in the Targaryen banners that adorned the walls and all he felt was a new found victory.

Young Griff was prepared to take back Westeros, to reclaim the throne of iron that his grandfather once sat upon from a bastard boy King that let men fight his battles for him. _Would they still fight for the boy knowing that he would not fight for them?_ Aegon asks himself with a raised eyebrow as he lets his eyes flutter close. He smirked at the thought of gutting the lion cub in front of his mother's very eyes. Princess Myrcella was currently residing in Dorne according to Lord Varys and Prince Tommen was merely a child, therefore he would leave them be.

The boy of ten and seven name days was not afraid of death, it was kill or be killed if he wanted to fight for and reclaim his birthright. Lord Varys has crafted him like a blacksmith would craft steel. The Spider has made him who he was. Aegon was taught politics before he could even speak never mind walk. And when he could walk, a wooden sword was thrust into his hand and he was taught to fight. Varys and Jon Connington raised him to be a ruler. _My reign has just begun._ His eyes reopened and he stared at the dancing flames with a deep thought, his dark brows furrowing from the conflict he felt.

 _Lysara Stark._

The name was like silk against his tongue. Her name sounded like a fine wine that he would happily get drunk upon. Aegon had dreamt of her late last night, it was a beautiful dream from his perspective, how she took this dream he did not know going by the expression on her face. They were locked in an embrace, watching the world burn around them and they remained unharmed as the world was set alight by dragon fire. Yet the dream always ended the same, some blue eyed boy had to ruin it for them. Young Griff cursed the damned boy.

"Enamoured, I see." The voice of Jon Connington mused, causing him to look up to the man with furrowed brows as the man stepped closer to him with a small smile on his face and Aegon noted that the smile aged him more, the man rarely smiled nowadays but when he did, it aged him several years. "You remind me of your father. He once held that same brooding expression on his face after he came across the she-wolf."

"My father-" Aegon swallowed, looking back to the flames. "Did he love her?"

"Yes. Your father held a fondness for your mother," Ser Jon tells him. "As she did him."

"No...I mean _her_ ," He spat. "The she-wolf, Lyanna Stark."

"...Bewitched, some might say. At first, he lusted for her. All the light faded from the cursed Harrenhal when Rhaegar rode past your mother and placed the laurel of blue roses upon Lady Lyanna's lap, gifting her the title the Queen of Love and Beauty...but she was, she was very beautiful." Jon sighed, looking on him with hesitance as he told the story, a story that was but was not familiar to him. All Aegon knew was how and why it ended. "The smiles that graced the faces of many...faded. The cheers had gone silent. No soul was heard at Harrenhal after that. Your mother, she took it in her stride. She rose to her feet, a smile graced on her face and cheered despite the slight against her. Though the next day...Rhaegar was gone...along with the Lady Lyanna..."

"Did he love her?" Aegon asked once more, a cooler edge in his tone.

"In the beginning, when he crowned her the Queen of Love and Beauty, I could not say if he did. I remember that day when he urged the horse passed your mother and placed the roses in Lady Lyanna's lap. I may have been sad for your mother but know this, I never once pitied her. Your mother was braver than any fool at Harrenhal," Ser Connington said as his voice grew grave and his eyes darkened. "In the end...after he had stolen her away...he must have loved her."

"For that...for that I hate him," Aegon said as tears rose in his eyes but he blinked them away and looked back up at Ser Jon. "I loathe him for what he did..."

"You must know this Aegon, you are alike your father in many ways. Your father was a good, honourable man. As are you," Ser Jon stated. "He and Lady Lyanna, what had happened between them was foolish and that foolishness cost the lives of thousands, millions even. Including, your mother and sister. The rebellion ended the Targaryen dynasty, a proud and ancient dynasty that had survived hundreds of years."

"What was Lyanna like?" Young Griff asked, cocking his head up towards Jon as he rose from his seat.

"Tempting. Wild. Young. Fierce. _Forbidden..._ " His words haunted him, a coldness was hanging in the air and he wondered if the Northern air would feel like this, bitter against his skin. Jon looked at him pointedly, "Let us think upon the future, boy. I do not want to think about the past as that is where it should belong. Let us not talk about House Stark. I am warning you, Aegon...as both your mentor and...you have always been like a son to me...so I must say this...do not fall to the same temptation that your father once did. The song of ice when it met fire still haunts us to this day. I do not wish to see you fall after you have risen so far."

"I want our riders prepared," Aegon informed him while a small smirk makes its way onto his face as he turned sharply on his heel and began to walk out of the hall, his boots echoing against the stone floor.

"Why?" Jon demanded fiercely.

"We ride for Winterfell," Young Griff said as he bent down and plucked a blue rose from the ground, twirling it in his hand.

"No. We planned to take Storm's End, boy!" Jon thundered, storming after him. "We discussed this! We were taking Storm's End and then the North!"

" _Today_ ," Aegon answered coldly as he walked away.

"Foolish boy!"

Despite Jon Connington's protests, they all fell deaf to his ears as he stared at the blue rose in his hand and walked into the courtyard. Aegon took in the Targaryen banners that flew high and proud in the air above Griffin's Roost like they once did when his father still drew breath and soon enough, the Targaryen banners would fly over the entirety of Westeros once more. Like he has dreamt. Though, he wasn't a King as of yet. After all, _what is a King without the strength of his Queen?_

* * *

Author's Note: Hey, I hope you like Chapter Fifteen. I would like to thank all of you for reading this story, for following and for making this story one of your favourites. I would also like to especially thank everyone who has reviewed. If you have any questions about this chapter or any other chapter or on Lysara, feel free to ask!

 _Reviews-_

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you, hopefully you like this update!

hbm: Thanks, I'm glad you liked Chapter Fourteen. Hopefully you like this chapter!

Saint River: Although Thoros of Myr can do it easily, Lysara will only be able to do at certain points and to a certain extent. It is only when she is angered or upset that her powers show as she does not have the full capability of controlling them but she does take advantage of that. Osha does definitely think of it as a good thing. And for Bran, well he's frightened both from his sister and for his sister. As for Hodor, he remains innocent to it all. I hope you like this chapter!

RHatch89: Thank you!

Celticank: I hope you like this chapter!

Guest D: Thank you so much! I'm glad you liked the part where she set the soldier on fire and resurrects Rickon, I liked writing that particular part. Hopefully I have shown slightly what Bran thinks about his sister but I haven't shown the full extent of it yet. I can't tell you about Young Griff just yet, as it will give some parts of the plot away but I will leave it up to interpretation until then. Some things will remain canon and some things won't be canon, I will follow the main plot of Game of Thrones but certain major things and plot lines will change. I have read the books and watched the show but I will add certain things from the book into this story such as Young Griff and Jon Connington along with the book appearances but I will mainly follow the show plot line though there will be a book plot line added in here and there, some might be noticeable others might not be. Hopefully I answered all your questions and if you have any more, it can be as many as you want feel free to ask!


	17. Chapter Sixteen

_The North_

Lysara Stark

The sound of a small, childlike scream stirred Lysara from her sleep. Her eyes slowly opened and she sat up from beneath the heavy furs that were draped across her body. Her body shaking harshly as the chilling air of the calm night caressed her skin. _I have never felt such coldness,_ Lysara thought to herself as she sat further up and reached out to seek the warmth of both Rickon and Shaggydog but found that they were missing. Her eyes widened as she saw the layer of snow on the ground and wondered briefly if she was dreaming.

"Brandon, are you awake?" Lysara asked quietly, looking over at the shadowed tree and trembled as she spoke once more. " _Brandon?_ "

Lysara's eyes trailed across the ground towards the disturbance of the snow, the footsteps of both the wolf and the boy making their way further into the woods. _Where are you?_ Lysara thought, dread pooling in her belly as she started to rise slowly from the pelts. The pelts slid from her body as she rose slowly to her feet. A sound of footsteps filled her ears causing her to stand abruptly and look ahead into the woods where she saw and heard the movement come from.

" _Rickon?"_ Lysara called but grew worried when no reply came to her cry. "Rickon? Is that you?"

Both cautious and dreading, she began to walk warily in the direction of the footprints. Lysara wondered how far in the woods she had come but the further she travelled the darker and colder the night grew. A sound of a twig snapping made her still. Lysara kept her breathing quiet and laboured as she tried to listen for the movement once more. Whoever or _whatever_ was out there was near. Lysara knew that she was not alone, that was for certain and she knew that they were watching her. Their eyes trained on every jerk of her body, from the movement of her feet to the rising and falling of her chest. It was paranoid thoughts that left her fearful, she searched the woods until her grey eyes landed on a small figure. _Rickon._ Her breath hitched when she saw him, her brows furrowing together.

"Rickon..." She breathed, edging closer to him.

Lysara took a few more careful steps towards her brother, her pace picking up but she saw him turn slowly and walk further into the woods. Her heart raced as she followed him, struggling against the harsh and icy winds that were pulling at her dress, she felt as if the wind was telling her not to follow him and the snow seemed to agree, as her black boots struggled against the snow. Her footing was terrible as she slipped on the layer of ice that covered the snow like glass, glinting dangerous beneath her.

Lysara could barely keep up with her brother, who without a doubt would be freezing from the winter's deadly embrace and was instantly thrust back into her childhood when she was in his position. _R'hllor guide me,_ Lysara thinks to herself with a fearful thought and closed her eyes as she made an attempt to quicken her pace. _Protect us from the night. Protect us from the terrors that lurk in the darkness._ She reopened her eyes, not wanting to take her eyes away from Rickon's form as he twisted and turned, in and out of the trees.

As she continued forward, her eyes eventually looked to the ground, she kept them downcast to keep them from watering from the cold. Lysara stilled, feeling eyes on her and gradually looked up only to find her brother had stopped and was staring at her...except, it wasn't her brother. The boy was standing still, so still that it looked as if he was not breathing. Her desire to give chase to the boy she had once thought of as her brother was gone when her icy grey eyes met the icy blue.

" _N...No..._ " Lysara said in a hushed whisper. "T-This...This cannot be..."

 _Winter is Coming._

Her father's voice echoed hauntingly in her head as the boy tilted his head slightly as if he was trying to understand her. Though he was more likely inspecting her like a predator would do its prey by the hungry gleam in his dead eyes. Lysara knew he would make a move to kill, it was only a matter of when. _The boy has been claimed by winter long ago,_ Lysara thought as she looked on in fear. Her eyes widened at the low growls emitting from the child's body. Or what was once a child, if she wanted to correct herself.

It caught her off guard what he did next. He lunged forward, his lips pursed and his sharp but human teeth bared as he let out feral snarls. It sounds like ice was cracking in his throat. As she looked to the boy and inspected him, she knew that he had been dead for a long time. His clothes hung from his body and he had claw marks on his face, she swallowed when she saw that the flesh of his grey face was hanging off. Lysara took a few large steps back, her eyes unable to look away from the boy in front of her. The boy pounced once again, crawling on all fours quickly towards her causing her to take a step back except the heel of her boot caught on a frozen branch and she slips, flying in the air only to land harshly on the ground. The ice cracked beneath her which made an involuntary whimper escape her lips from the sting.

Lysara immediately scrambled back after the impact, backing away from the boy and kicked at both the ice and the snow. _A wight_ , Lysara thought and that was all she could think of. The stories Old Nan told her were echoing eerily in her mind as she stared on in fright, her dreams had come true. Her heart was skipping beats every time she looked into the ice blue eyes of winter. She lay back, baring her neck when it stood up and made a move to jump on top of her. Her eyes closed when she heard the gnashing of teeth and the unearthly growls.

 _If I am to die,_ Lysara thinks to herself solemnly. _Let me be brave...Let me be brave...Let me be-_

A sound of a sword cutting through the air made her eyes snap open in both awe and fear. Her eyes were met with a sword of the flame, the very sword she had seen a man wielding to end all of winter and would bring forth spring within her dreams. The wight was torn apart by the fiery sword. And as the sword was pulled away from the boy that was set aflame, the boy collapsed, convulsing and twitching until it stilled. It no longer showed any signs of life. Lysara slowly looked up, clutching at her chest which heaved and saw a cloaked figure, their face shadowed by the large hood. Her eyes widened when the man with the fiery sword pulled back his hood.

" _Jon?"_

Her tear filled eyes opened then, her entire body shaking as she jolted up from lying beneath the tree. Lysara looked around vigorously clutching her throat tightly but a small sob of relief escaped her throat when she saw Rickon lying next to her with Shaggydog. Her tear filled eyes landed on Brandon who was sleeping with Summer across his lap and Osha, who was propped up against a tree but nevertheless was asleep. The Reed girl, Meera was sound asleep but Jojen was nowhere to be found causing a frown to form on her face and she rose to her feet.

"Hodor?" The giant mumbled, looking up at her with wide eyes as he sat up.

"I'm alright," Lysara breathed gently as she placed a soft hand on his cheek, patting him slightly before she picked up her skirts and followed the footsteps. "Go back to sleep."

The giant's lips lifted into a large, child-like grin that reminded her of Rickon before he turned on his side with a large thud. Her lips quirked slightly when she heard his loud snores. She grasped her skirts tighter with her black gloved hands and made her way into the woods, trailing after the footsteps but this time she felt no fear. Lysara ducked underneath a low branch until she came across a small river that had long since frozen over and spotted Jojen sitting by it. She arched her brow, clasping her hands together and let her skirts drop softly, brushing against the white ground.

"You should be asleep," Lysara told him.

"As should you, dreamer of fire," He replied. His soft voice was barely heard before he turned to face her, looking up from the stone he held in his hand. "We always seem to creep up each other. We must stop greeting each other like this."

"True..." She trailed off. Her eyes were fixated on him and she cocked her head to the side before continuing, "I know of your true intentions. I know what you want with my brother."

"You and Brandon are alike," Jojen commented. "You share it."

"Pray tell...what do we exactly share, Jojen of House Reed?" Lysara asks calmly but on the inside she was burning.

"You are his older sister. The same blood flows through your veins," Jojen points out as he stands up from the river and turns to face her fully. A strange look was present in his eyes which made her all the more distrusting of him and his sister, "You share dreams, therefore you are bonded. By soul and heart. Your brother can take over the mind of his wolf, can he not? He can control him."

"The Lord of Light works in mysterious ways," She informs him lightly. "He has given him a gift. A gift that will guide my brother for the darker days and nights to come."

"You have the same gift," He tells her causing her to stiffen.

"You cannot fathom what I have," Lysara seethes softly, her eyes narrowing at him.

"Your brothers told me," Jojen said and tilts his head to the side. "You have such horrible dreams...such dreadful night terrors...no one should endure such pain."

"They lie," Lysara responds stiffly but her mind was reeling.

His eyes held sympathy causing her to grit her teeth and clench her jaw. _I do not want your pity,_ Lysara thinks to herself. Lysara rolls her shoulders and straightens up her back before turning to take her leave, the Reed boy follows after her and grasps her by the arm and gently tugs her back until she faces him once again. Although she towered over him to the point she found it amusing, his eyes were firm and trained on her as he leant closer to her face, inspecting her features.

She lifted an eyebrow, her face remaining impassive but she could feel the fire that burned within her roar in protest at the worshipper of a false Gods' touch. She made an attempt to shrug her arm out of his grip but his hand tightened around her arm. Lysara looked down at Jojen with cold eyes, her hand reaching up and gripped his wrist.

"I know what I am talking about," Jojen said. "And you do too."

"Unhand me," Lysara retorted evenly. " _Or else_."

"You are like me. You are like Bran," He insists. "You are a greenseer."

Lysara always had an opinion on everything and anything, many years of being subjected to name calling such as 'demon' and 'witch' had prepared her along with the looks. Yet as she stared at the ever serious Jojen, she had no words. He had made her apparently speechless, all she could do was stare at him as an anger filled her. _I am no greenseer,_ Lysara thought coldly as her ruby necklace began to glow brightly. The red light reflecting in his eyes as she piercingly stared at him. _I am a worshipper of light...I do not belong to those false Gods._

"How dare-" She begins, her eyes ablaze but he interrupted her.

"You cannot deny _who_ you are," Jojen protests. "You are Lysara Stark of Winterfell."

"I know who I am!" She spits viciously, snatching her arm from his grip roughly and finds herself uncaring for the sting it leaves. He walks closer towards her but she moves back, though she grunts softly when her back hits the tree. "And I know who you are too! The trickster crow visited you on your deathbed, dying of fever from the grey waters. R'hllor found me at the young age of seven, I was fading and I was fearing the darkness and death but then I found the light. I found R'hllor. You dare and try to deceive me!"

"I-" Jojen began but was cut off when they heard footsteps.

 _Osha._

The woman had her spear pointed towards them but slowly lowered it upon discovering it was them. Her eyes remained narrowed though as she stared at Jojen with caution and Lysara came to realise how it must have looked to the Wildling woman. She had her back against a tree, hissing angrily at him as he continued to near her. Lysara held her hand out to Osha, to wordlessly tell her that she was alright. Osha nodded, twirling her spear in her hand. Her eyes never left Jojen as he took a few steps back from her, his eyes reluctantly leaving her own before making his way back to their camp.

"Did that frog eater hurt you?" Osha asked, looking on Jojen's retreating figure resentfully.

"No," Lysara said after a long while. "He did not. I would not let him even if he tried. Do you trust him, Osha?"

"No," The wild woman answered, confirming her rightful suspicions as they began their short walk back to their camp.

"Good," She responded staring blankly ahead. "Nor do I."

Lysara saw that Rickon was still sound asleep as was Bran but she knew better when she noticed the yellow eyes of Summer was trained on her, the direwolf's head tilted to the side. She lifted up her skirts, minding her footing and took extreme care not to slip on the ground that had frozen over. Lysara approached Bran's sleeping form and knelt beside him, her eyes never leaving Summer's. The direwolf rose to his feet and approached her before resting his head on her warm lap, she stroked his fur softly while staring down at him.

"How about I tell you a story?" Lysara asks though all she receives is a small huff from the direwolf. She runs her hand through his pelt and smiles softly down at him. "I had such an awful night terror, Bran...I was so terrified, knowing that I was dreaming of what was to come...but let us not dwell on that dream. I will tell you the story that I hold dear to me. Your favourites were always the scary ones. I like the scary ones too."

Summer or Bran pants softly as she absentmindedly strokes his fur while she speaks in a low voice, mindful of not waking Rickon nor Hodor. Osha was sat nearby, sharpening her spear and eyeing the Reed siblings with hostility but she appeared to be listening earnestly to her and by the looks of it so was Jojen and the now awake Meera, although their backs were turned to them. The siblings were talking quietly but nevertheless, she knew that they were listening.

"The story is about the Long Night. The Long Night and how it will come again, winter will come like we have prophesied and what a cold winter it will be. The sun will hide for many years. We will look up to the heavens and we will see no sky, no stars nor moon. Only darkness...and the dead that will be brought by the winds of winter. The last night we bore witness to was a long one, it lasted for years and years. No one was safe from the winter's wrath. The highborn in their pretty clothing and gold froze to death in their castles and the lowborn froze to death in their huts. In the end, winter showed us no remorse and told us all. We are nothing but a game to them, we all play the game, Bran. We are all at different levels of the game, some higher than the rest but in the end, we are all dealing with the same hell and the same devils..." Lysara murmured, her voice picking up with the icy wind. "The White Walkers. The army for the Other."

"Winter is Coming," Osha agreed, her face paling and her eyes were deathly afraid. "And the dead come with it."

"The Prince Who Was Promised," Lysara breathed as her eyes stare on into the distance, recalling her vivid dream and she held onto her belief fiercely. Her grip tightens lightly on Summer's fur. "The stars will bleed when the last of the dragons sing. The winter will breathe life into the dead and the world will fall into darkness once they reach the realm of living men. As the world becomes ice...a warrior shall come forth with a sword of flame. And they shall be named the wielder of Lightbringer. The wielder of fire. The winter will bow before the reborn Azor Ahai. And the many that dreamt of spring, they will witness as it covers the world once more...bringing heaven at long last to this hell we live in."

"The realm needs a hero," Osha concludes but Lysara shakes her head softly.

 _The realm needs no hero,_ Lysara thinks to herself. _The realm needs Jon Snow._

* * *

Author's Note: Hey, hopefully you like Chapter Sixteen. I would like to thank all of you for reading this story, it means a lot to me. And I'd also like to thank all of you who have made this story one of your favourites, followed it and of course a special thanks to all of you who have left a review. Let me know what you think and if you have any questions feel free to ask. The next update should be up soon!

 _Reviews-_

Saint River: Thank you, I'm glad you liked Chapter Fifteen and thank you for reviewing. There will be a lot of tension between Lysara backed by Osha with the Reed siblings and hopefully I can prove it in chapters to come. I'm glad you liked that quote, I wanted to show that she was alike her mother in some ways. Yep, Osha isn't a believer but she does believe that Lysara can do things that aren't exactly ordinary. Lysara will be able to one day control her powers but it won't happen for a long while so for now it will just happen without her control, it would seem to easy for her to control them because she wasn't looked after by someone who is like her, she mostly has had to try and figure it out for herself. As for Aegon going North, Jon will try and convince him otherwise and to take Storm's End like they had originally planned. The ancient part is really a matter of perspective on Jon Connington's part. I was sort of unsure if I should've put that part in or not because they did only rule for nearly 300 years but since Jon's a firm believer in Targaryen rule, I put it in anyway to fit his character.

Maester Aemon: All of this will be revealed in the next two chapters. Jon Connington will be convincing Aegon to take Storm's End because the army they have is very little and if they were to go into the heart of the North, not many houses would take too kindly to a fleet of soldiers with Targaryen banners raised. Lady Catelyn will have a pov in the next chapter and both she and Robb will be discussing different things in Chapter Seventeen. The fate of Winterfell is set in stone, Theon still has it and Ramsay will take it.

TWDzombie: Thank you, I'm glad you like Lysara and Bran's connection. Hopefully you liked this chapter! Lysara and Aegon may cross paths in the distant future but it won't be as it seems.

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you, hopefully you like this chapter!


	18. Chapter Seventeen

_The Wall_

Jon Snow

Jon was restless. The dream he had last night was an odd dream, to say the least, it was more of a night terror. After the dream, he felt _different_. Jon could still feel the fiery sword that he had grasped in his hand, the morning felt different as well. Jon had woke to the smell of fire and the calling of his name only to wake and find Samwell Tarly, looming over his bedside with a plate of blackened sausages, a bread roll and wine. Jon ran his fingers through his curly locks and swung his legs over the side of the bed before he slowly stood up.

Sam held a solemn expression on his face, his hands trembling like his fat bottom lip as he looked at him with confliction. Jon furrowed his brows, eyeing him and then let his eyes trail down to the tray in Sam's hands and saw a letter perched against the goblet of wine. He eyed it with hesitation before letting his eyes trail back up to Sam's face. He watched as Sam stumbled forward and placed the metal tray on the table and Jon winced at the clattering sound that it made.

"A letter," Sam said softly. "I'm so sorry, Jon."

Jon frowned at the sad tone of his friend's voice as he thrust on his boots with haste and loosely tied together the ties before dressing himself. After he had laced up the thin dark brown tunic, he picked up his black fur cloak and threw it around his shoulders, letting the furs that have been warmed by the fire that was lit in his chambers warm his neck. He stretched, letting out a low yawn and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hands.

"Who from?" Jon asked tiredly.

"Robb Stark," Sam informed him which caused him to still from picking up his bread roll.

"What of Robb?" Jon questioned hesitantly.

He tried to keep his features calm and his voice cool though he knew that Sam saw through it and saw the fear and worry he held for his brother. His mind wandered, spitting malicious thoughts of what the letter might contain. It could contain anything as of late and he will never be prepared for it. The last letter he received was from Lysara telling him of their father's death but that was moon cycle's ago and he had not heard from her since. Jon eyed the crumpled letter with an intensity, not wanting to read it.

"What was it about?" Jon asked once more.

"He writes of your brothers and sister at Winterfell," Sam stated.

Sam opened his mouth to speak, his lip still trembling as he made an attempt to speak. Jon slowly picked up the letter from the tray but Sam quickly snatched it out of his hold. He eyed him with wide eyes and watched Sam's lips part many a time, his friend looked like a fish at that moment in time rather than a crow. The sad look never left Sam's face causing Jon to still, dread filling as he shook his head softly, trying to shrug off the thoughts that filled his head. _What if the Lannister's attacked Winterfell? My little sister and brothers cannot defend themselves against the lions. What if they are dead?_

"Sam-" Jon sighs as he approaches him. "Give me the letter."

"N-No," He stammers with a shake of his head and takes a huge step back. "You wouldn't like it. It isn't good news."

"Sam," Jon begins slowly. "Tell me...what happened to my siblings?"

"T-Theon Greyjoy...he lay siege to Winterfell, Jon. He hailed himself the L-Lord of Winterfell. He took Winterfell with an army of twenty men. The letter states that your sister and brothers were outnumbered and forced to hand Winterfell over to Theon. Y-Your sister bent the knee," Sam tells him. Jon furrows his brows and shakes his head in denial. _That does not sound like my sister. She would never bend the knee even if they had a knife at her throat._ "Rodrik Cassel was beheaded by Theon...your Maester is dead. Your brothers...I am sorry, Jon...they were killed...it is said that their bodies hang above the castle-"

"My sister," Jon interrupts fiercely. "What about Lysara?"

"I-I don't k-know," Sam stutters and eyes him warily. "The letter says that Lysara is gone. That she is nowhere to be found."

Jon felt his breath leave him and his heart momentarily stops before he shakily sat down on the bed, staring at the stone wall of his chambers in silence. All his time spent at the Wall and he never felt so cold as he did at that very moment. Jon could feel tears rise and gather in his eyes but he blinked them away. He tried to comprehend what Sam had told him. He couldn't believe it. He and Jon were the oldest, yet their brothers were dead before them.

"W-What?" Jon asks quietly.

"Your brothers are dead, Jon," Sam said and stumbles closer to him. "Your sister is missing."

"Theon," Jon speaks up after a moment of tense silence before he looks up at Samwell. A hot fury consumed him which left his entire body shaking, he kept his eyes level with Sam as he stands once more. He could only say Theon's name. Jon never liked Theon, not as much as Robb liked him. It was fact, though he never thought...he never thought that Theon would kill Bran and Rickon. They were like brothers to him. "Theon...he did that... _I'll kill him_..."

"Yes, I-I'm sorry Jon," His friend utters out softly as he grimaces. "I'm sorry."

"And my sister is missing..." Jon trails off.

He thought on Lysara. His sister. _Gone. Missing._ His brow furrowed as he thought of her. The pain she may be in as of this moment if she was still alive...he could not bare to think of her. Jon could not imagine what may or may not have happened to her, all those horrible things that Theon or his Ironborn could have done to her or made her witness. And the killing of their brothers...he knew it must have destroyed her. His lips pressed together then and his nails dug into his palms, so harshly that he drew blood from both his bottom lip and his hands.

"Where is she?" Jon questioned. "She's missing...but where? Where would she flee to?"

The thought of his heartbroken, little sister wandering through the dark and freezing woods brought a chill down his spine. He was reminded of the last time she went missing in the woods when he was nine. Jon had searched the woods for her along with their father. It was a cold night, a harsh night yet all he could do was focus on his sister. His sister who was no doubt dying. He could see the fear in his father's eyes as they rode through the woods, shouting for her. Jon did not care for the cold that pierced his flesh that night...all he cared for was having her in his arms and in the warmth of his cloak.

His jaw clenched as he tried to calm the thundering of his heart and with a final thought, he rose to his feet abruptly. Jon marched towards the table, ignoring the food and downed his wine before he went to the other end of his chambers and grasped his long sword and belt, quickly adjusting them to his waist and his head snapped to the end of the bed, where Ghost slept soundly and called for him. Ghost's red eyes snapped open and the direwolf's ears rose. Jon made a gesture with his head causing the direwolf to trot towards him as he made his way to the heavy wooden door.

"Jon," Sam began frantically and shuffled after him. "Jon...Jon, what are you doing?"

"Leaving," Jon answered stiffly as he adjusted the small clasps of his black cloak.

"Where?" The large man demanded with wide eyes. "You can't just leave. You will _die_ and I-"

"And if I do not leave, my sister will _die_!" Jon interrupts, raising his voice as he swiftly turns to face Sam. "I...I can't just let her die. I can't just leave her to the woods. Anything could happen to her! Anyone could harm her! And after I find her, we will go back to Winterfell and I'll kill Theon myself!" His voice grows weaker then as his eyes look to the floor. "What sort of brother would I be if I let something happen to her, Sam?"

"Night gathers and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death," Sam starts quietly causing Jon to shake his head. "I shall take no wife, hold no lands and father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory, I shall live and die at my post."

"Sam-" Jon speaks up but Sam continues.

"I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the Wall," Sam recites the oath they made. "I am the shield that guards the realms of men. You pledged that Jon. You swore an oath. You pledged your life and honour to the Night's Watch from that night we swore the oath underneath the Heart Tree and for all the nights ahead of us. You can't leave, Jon. You won't do your sister or brother any favours if you are executed."

"What of Lysara? I-"

"You have told me a lot about Lysara, I think..." Sam admits. "I think that she will come to you. Let her come to you."

"Why would she come to me?" Jon scoffs with a heavy frown on his face. "I'm just her bastard brother."

"I don't think she cares that you're a bastard," Samwell informs him with a small smile. "I don't. She will come...I'm sure of it, give it some time and you will be together again soon. Besides, I think it is a good thing that your sister is missing."

"Why?" Jon asked confused, his brows furrowing further than they already were.

" _It means no one can find her._ "

* * *

 _Riverrun_

Catelyn Stark

Catelyn could still feel the emptiness in her darkening heart from where Ned had been. After hearing the news of her husband's death, she recalled collapsing against the trees, falling against them and hurting her entire body. Her throat was still raw and painful from screaming until she no longer could feel anything. Catelyn could still hear the solemn silence that followed after the river of tears that had slid down her pale and worn face. She still had the cuts from hitting the bark of the tree roughly with her hands until blood ran down them and her shaking arms. Catelyn remembered clawing at her chest where her heart lay from the pain she felt...but then she heard her son, Robb.

Catelyn remembered Robb most of all, ruining his sword as he unleashed his fury on a tree at the top of the woods. He had roared that it left her shocked and her ears reeling from the noise. The boy turned man turned soldier collapsed into her arms. His body shaking from furious and agonising sobs. Lady Catelyn felt as if she was carrying the weight of the world by holding him but she did not care as her children _were_ her world. She would never love anything as fiercely as did her children. Catelyn thought on all of her living children then as tears fell from her blank eyes.

 _Robb._ Her eldest child of auburn hair and blue eyes. He was honourable and loyal and _kind_ , just like Ned was. Yet, at the age of ten and eight he was thrust into a war, a war he did not deserve and now the Young Wolf that the North had so lovingly named him was fighting against a pride of lions and for the North to be free. The Seven Kingdoms would soon become Six Kingdoms if Robb had his way. _The King of the North,_ she could still remember as they crowned him their King. The utter relief and pride she felt that day. The thrust for vengeance diminishing.

 _Sansa._ Her third child and second daughter, the daughter she was the most of proudest of. Sansa was the epitome of a Lady. The world was sweet and kind back when they were all at Winterfell when they were all safe from harm. Catelyn was certain that the bards would write songs of Sansa's beauty with her lithe, towering frame and her long, auburn hair that fell across her shoulder in waves. Though her eyes were the most beautiful part of her, a beautiful and bright blue. The colour of the rivers at Riverrun. Her daughter was currently held by the lions that Robb was fighting against and she prayed each night for her safety.

And then _Arya._ Her fourth youngest and third daughter, the wildest of her six children. Arya looked so much like Eddard with her grey eyes, dark unruly hair that always seemed to tangle and then her long but pretty face. Arya had vanished...having fled King's Landing shortly after Ned's death. Catelyn prayed to the Seven for her safety along with Sansa's. She prayed to both the Mother and the Father. To the Crone. To the Maiden. To the Warrior. To the Smith. And she even prayed to the Stranger for Arya. She hoped one of the Seven may listen to her cries.

 _Lysara. Brandon. Rickon,_ her mind hissed at her.

A sob escaped her throat when she thought of her three children at Winterfell and the events that unfolded. Her boys...her little boys were gone and she clawed at her bosom once more desperate to rid herself of the pain she felt. Then she thought on Lysara, her eldest daughter and second child. Lysara was missing. Her boys looked so much like but she caught glimpses of her father in Brandon, which always made a smile appear on her lips. As for Lysara, she did not see Lyanna like Ned did. She saw his brother, she saw Brandon. From the piercing grey eyes to her daughter's nose, her face was entirely Brandon's except with softer, more feminine features. Lysara had fled Winterfell and all she could do was pray that she and Arya found them at the Twins. Though she did not pray to the Seven for Lysara's safety.

"Mother-" Robb's voice made her attention draw back to him.

"Yes," Catelyn began hoarsely. "What is it?"

"Bran and Rickon are..." Robb paused, his wavering voice trailing off as their names reduced him to tears. "Gone. Lysara is not. And neither is Arya. We must find them."

"Dead at the hands of a Kraken," She spat. "I told you! I told you never to trust a Greyjoy! Now...now they are gone... _my boys_..."

"We could never have known, mother," Robb sighed as he sat down beside her.

"Your sisters. Sansa is in King's Landing," Catelyn said. "Lysara and Arya are missing."

"We will find them," Robb swore. " _I promise_."

"Your Grace!" A voice boomed, causing her eyes to snap towards the entrance to the tent.

Lady Catelyn eyed the messenger that entered the tent briskly, a letter firmly clenched in his hand and a three eyed crow perched loyally on his shoulder. The crow seemed to glare at her causing her to shudder as both she and Robb stood up. The crow's three black eyes never left her own which made her shift uncomfortably. The messenger bowed before approaching Robb quickly and thrust the letter warily into his hand. She looked to the letter in utter loathing, wondering which dreadful news they would receive next. _Which child have I lost next? Sansa? Arya? Lysara? Which man is my son to face next? What war will my son partake in next?_

She watched Robb's stern expression as he opened and started to read the letter but watched with slowly widening eyes as his face contorted into something unreadable. Lady Catelyn made her way towards him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Her son was no longer a boy, she was certain of this when she felt the hard muscle underneath her fingers. _He may be a man grown now,_ Catelyn thinks to herself fiercely. _But he is my son...my boy. My last boy and first born who has outlived his younger brothers._

"Mother..." Robb started, his voice hopeless and dreading causing her to still. His eyes never left the letter.

"Who?" Catelyn inquired. "Who writes to you?"

" _Aegon,"_ Her son informed her, his voice wavering as he spoke. The mere first name caused her entire being to stiffen. " _Aegon Targaryen."_

* * *

 _The North_

Lysara Stark

"You are a greenseer, like me," Jojen's voice stirs her awake. "Like your sister."

Lysara's eyes open and her narrowed eyes were immediately met with Osha, sitting next to her, ripping apart the skin of an animal roughly as she eyed Jojen in anger. Lysara sat up slowly, letting the furs that were draped across her body slide down. She felt a weight on her legs and saw that Shaggydog was resting next to her, chewing absentmindedly on a large bone from the animal that Osha was tearing apart and skinning. She let her eyes trail from the direwolf to the other direwolf who was sat next to Bran and then let her eyes rest on Rickon who was with Hodor and Meera next to the small fire. Meera was eyeing Osha with the same hostility and hate as she too was skinning an animal.

"I want you to stop filling his head with such thoughts," Lysara coldly states.

"Lysara," Bran said quickly as they both could feel the tension rise. "It's alright. I wish to hear it."

"It is not alright," Lysara retorts with her eyes narrowed.

"I hear him...I hear him every single bloody day, filling your heads with those thoughts..." Osha sneers, agreeing with her.

It has been this way ever since they joined with the Reeds. Lysara and Osha against Jojen and Meera. They both fought for Brandon with Rickon and Hodor blissfully unaware of the tension between the four of them. The direwolves sensed this tension and were divided. If Summer snarled at Lysara, Shaggydog would retaliate and it would lead to these direwolves fighting. Lysara did not want Bran listening to the worshipper of the false Gods, especially one who worked in the name of the trickster crow. The same crow she had detested since childhood.

"Enough," Bran says firmly but Osha shakes her head.

"No," Osha argues before her eyes leave his own and she turns to her. "You don't think I see the way he looks at her? He is no different than any other. Lysara knows it. I know it. The direwolves know it too."

"Stop it!" Bran yells but Osha nevertheless continues.

"Leave them alone!" Meera yells and stands up, readying herself to attack Osha.

"This does not concern you," Lysara said evenly.

"I do not want to argue with you," Jojen speaks up and their eyes lock. "I do not fill his head with thoughts that he does not want. I simply want to tell him the truth.

"Truth?" Lysara repeats icily, arching an eyebrow as she stares impassively at him. "Which truth do you speak of greenseer?"

"I wish...I wish I could tell you everything, it would be much kinder to do so but I cannot," Jojen tells them.

"I don't care," Osha seethes. "I am taking Lady Lysara and her brothers to Castle Black like she requested. Maester Luwin made me promise to take them to Jon Snow at Castle Black and I intend to. If you try and stop me...I'll kill you."

"We will not be going to Castle Black, I'm afraid," He sighs with a shake of his head.

"We are not going to Castle Black," Lysara responds. "We are going to Jon Snow. By the time we arrive-"

"Jon Snow will not be at Castle Black," Jojen interrupts. "He will be beyond the Wall by the time we arrive at Castle Black."

"N-No," Osha murmurs causing Lysara to look at her. "N-No...I will not be going back beyond the Wall."

"I won't let you go back beyond the Wall," Lysara reassures her. "I promise."

"We have to!" Bran protests, causing her to stand from the furs immediately and she eyes both him and Jojen, though it was mostly towards the greenseer in a seething anger. "I have seen the crow ever since I fell from the tower. I know he wants me to find him. I do not have my legs anymore...I can walk in my dreams and if the crow wants me...I have a purpose in life like you said Lysara."

"You do have a purpose...but if you go down this path Bran," Lysara tells him hollowly, her voice lacking life. "It will not end well for you."

"The crow-"

"Is a trickster!" Lysara hisses, her voice frightening off the birds and the fire roars. She sucks in a sharp breath before continuing more calmly, "He has taunted...mocked me my entire life, ever since I began to dream. _He_ has always been there, taunting and tricking me. In my youth, he raised me high...high in the sky, telling me of peace and the world that was apparently heaven that we lived in...and then he dropped me! He dropped me into this hell! I am _so_ frightened...for you...for our family...do you not think I know of what is to come? You do not know what is beyond that Wall. You are travelling to meet _them_ and it is all _their_ fault! They are the reason we will face the army of the dead. They are the reason that you will-"

"We are going to Castle Black, like I promise," Osha muttered after Lysara stills, terrified that she has given too much away but when she sees that their hardened faces stay the same, she lets out a small sigh from her parted lips. "You have a family, Bran. You belong with your family."

"I fell from the tower for a reason," Bran pressed.

"Aye. It was you," Lysara said cruelly. "You set everything in motion. You are the reason."

"You shouldn't say such things to your brother," Meera hisses as she takes a stand at the same time Osha does. "It was not his fault!"

"Is that what they are telling you?" Osha mused to Bran, cocking her head to the side like a predator would do when inspecting its kill. "I'm deeply sorry little Lord but what is beyond that Wall...they will not spare you. Those _things_ won't spare you. Tell him, Lysara. You need to tell him the truth. Why do you think I have stuck with you as far as I have? She is practically _made_ from fire. Those things...those bastards despise it. They won't go near it. Lysara's my best chance at survival."

" _You_ don't understand," Bran argues.

"I do understand, Bran. _Winter is Coming_ ," Osha said coldly bringing a shiver to her. " _The dead are coming with it."_

* * *

Author's Note: Hopefully you like Chapter Seventeen! I would like to thank all of you for reading this story, it means a lot to me that you have. I would also like to thank all of you for making this story one of your favourites, for following it and of course a massive thanks to everyone who has left a review. Let me know what you think and if you have any questions, feel free to ask!

 _Reviews-_

RHatch89: Thank you! As for Young Griff, he may or may not be a fake Aegon. All will be revealed in later chapters as to who he is.

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you! I hope you like Chapter 17.

ATP: Bran does need a lot of training, though Lysara doesn't have any training herself. She only goes by what feels right and she doesn't exactly have full control or understanding of her powers but in the next few chapters she will be helping him to the best of her ability. Lysara definitely knows about the creation of the White Walkers and that is why she holds such hostility towards beyond the Wall. I will definitely be adding the giants and elements from the books involving the giants.

Saint River: Thank you for reviewing! After the Red Wedding, I will definitely be follow most of the book in terms of how most Westeros especially the Northern Houses react. Lysara is hostile towards the Reeds but in Chapter 18, I will show why exactly she is. Though she definitely knows more about the lore of the Children, the White Walkers and the Other's than she lets on.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

_The North_

Lysara Stark

It was the taste of blood lingering in her mouth and the night terrors that consisted of the winds of winter and the dead that marched with it, that roused her from her unsettled sleep. Lysara has not dreamt of becoming a direwolf since Lady and this time, she dreamt that she was Ghost, travelling beyond the Wall beside Jon Snow. The further they ventured to the Wall, the colder the nights grew and the darker they grew as well and in these dark, long nights she prayed for glimpses in the flames of the fire and she received more than she had asked for, she had received painful visions that left her writhing in agony. All she could do was stare into the dancing flames, waiting for the pain to shortly follow after the visions. It seemed the further they grew to the Wall, the stronger her power and faith grow. Her faith in the Lord of Light strengthened.

 _Darkness,_ Lysara thought coldly. _All I see is darkness and snow._

An eerie feeling filled her and a dread caused her to stiffen as she opened her eyes but all she saw was the darkness, the same darkness that she saw in the fires. Her eyes widened as she slowly sat up from her bed of furs and her brows furrowed as she slowly rose to her feet. _The Godswood?_ Lysara thought as she walked closer to the tree that bleeds. Lysara approached with a wariness and felt as if thousands of eyes were watching her. The wind picked up as she placed her hand on the white tree, the whispers were carried with the wind. Lysara looked around for her brother and wondered briefly if she was sharing a dream with him but behind her, she felt a _darker_ presence that brought a chill down her spine.

" _I will summon armies_ ," The voice murmured impassively near her right ear and she spun quickly on her heel, only to meet nothing but more forestry and darkness. It seemed this voice was carried with the wind and it chilled her to the very bone, she normally was warm, her fire forever burning but as of now, she felt nothing but cold. " _The Lost Hero came before you. He stood strong and tall and brave."_

The man's voice cracked like ice and her pace quickened as she followed after the voice that was void of any emotion. Lysara came across more shadows, this time, they took form. A figure wielding a burning sword passed her along with another figure upon a horse. The voice quietened and her breath hitched when she saw familiar figures. Her eyes widened and she took a step back, staring at the figures that were blocking her path.

A male figure with a wolf's head in place of their own. _Robb._ A womanly figure with her hands covering her throat. _My mother._ A man that had no head but instead held it in his arms. _My father._ There were two more figures that stood beside them and her brow furrowed. The figure next to her brother was a lithe, willowy figure that no doubt belonged to a woman. The shadow cradled a babe in their arms and the next was a smaller figure, a child that had several arrows sticking inside of them. The figure was the same height as her youngest brother, Rickon. _It cannot be my brother Rickon,_ Lysara thinks to herself. _He lives. I breathed fire into his lungs and gifted him life._

" _I stole his dreams away,"_ The voice mocked tauntingly and she sneered, her lips pursing as she turned once more to face the voice. " _Now I have you standing before me...a woman of fire...forged from flame...all alone in the woods with nothing but the snow below her...and the darkness above her..."_

Lysara turned around once more, the voice closer than it ever has been and her eyes widened when she saw the figure approaching her. Her bottom lip began to tremble in sheer terror from the figure that approached her and this time, this time, no one will be able to save her. A hint of a smirk appears on their face, their bright blue eyes focusing intently on her as she picks up her skirts and turns to run only to come face to face with the army of the undead.

"This...this cannot be..." Lysara breathes quietly. _R'hllor protect me,_ she prayed.

Lysara turns abruptly back only to find the Night's King standing right behind her. She recoils, wincing when his icy blue eyes bore into her own and as she takes a step back, the Night's King snatches her by the neck and raises her from the ground. His face was impassive and he remained silent as he began to choke the very life from her.

The pain at her neck was made worse by a sudden burning she felt, it felt as if her entire being was protesting against his touch. Lysara clawed meekly at the Night's King but to no avail, his grip only tightened and his eyes seemed to hold some for of sick pleasure in taking her life. She could see her vision darken and in pure instinct, she reached out with her hands and clawed at his own hands. As her vision faded and her ears began to ring, she smelt smoke and it was followed by a horrifying scream. It was _inhumane_. It sounded like ice cracking below their feet, like winter itself crying. Her last coherent thought as she was dropped harshly to the ground was a powerful sensation as the darkness claimed her, the last thing she heard was the sound of ice and the smell of _fire._

 _"Lysara!"_

She sat up with a gasp, her hands wrapped tightly around her throat and looked around vigorously, scrambling back until her back hit a tree. It took her a few moments to realise that she was safe. _For now,_ Lysara added to herself as her eyes landed on a large fire that was burning beside her. _The night is dark and filled with terrors,_ Lysara thought as she stared deeply into the fire. _And those terrors are coming for us._ Her eyes landed on Osha, who was the person to call her name. She clutched her chest, her heart thundering as she looked around, taking note of her surroundings. Her little brother, Rickon was playing with Shaggydog and Hodor was stumbling after them. Brandon and Jojen were conversing in hushed voices, every so often throwing sticks into the fire to strengthen.

Lysara wiped the sweat that was beaded on her forehead and raised her brow at the tension she felt between the Reed girl and the Wildling woman. Meera was sat nearby a pine tree and was skinning a rabbit that she had shot earlier and it appeared Osha was doing the same. Osha kept throwing smug glances at the Reed girl causing her to sit further up and she cocked her head to the side, listening to the battle of words between both Meera and Osha. Lysara felt a weight on her legs and looked down to see Summer, lying across her knees. She lay a hand on his fur and caressed neck as he huffed lightly at her before closing his eyes, settling down to sleep once more.

"Like I said," Osha began, there was no kindness present in her voice as she told her. "This is how you skin a rabbit. You are doing it _wrong_."

"I think you will find that I know _how_ to skin a rabbit," The girl said with narrowed eyes.

"I don't think so," Osha continued, a smirk appearing on her face. Lysara eyed the older woman and she arched her brow to see that the woman indeed had more experience and better skill when it came to skinning animals. She watched in fascination as the woman stripped the skin of the rabbit with little to no effort. The woman that had slowly became her companion seemed almost smug and was priding herself on the fact that she seemed to be better than Meera at this particular skill. Osha tied the meat and raised it above the fire, letting it cook for their sup. "I learned how to skin a rabbit before I could walk and talk. You'd learned the same way as I had you been born beyond the Wall. We are bred from winter. We do not live, we survive. Can the same be said for you, little frog girl? If I had my bow instead of a stick, I could have shot a dozen rabbits."

"It seems you are not taught how to make your own weapons beyond the Wall," Meera scoffed. It seemed the girl was struggling to keep calm. "I made my bow."

"We fight with our fists," Osha responded, her eyes narrowing towards the girl.

"Yes!" Meera proclaimed, rolling her eyes. "We will get _so_ far with doing things _your_ way now, won't we?"

" _Enough_ ," Lysara spoke up calmly and shifted the direwolf lying next to her as she rose to her feet, letting the skirts of her red dress fall to the ground in silken waves. She stepped closer to the fire and knelt by its side, eyeing the dance of fire with intensity. All she could think of was how she looked death and winter in the eye. This fight between them mattered little to her as of now. "We have a more pressing matter to deal with than who skins rabbits better. Have you not both successfully skinned the beast? If so, end this feud. You both are good enough. I do not wish to hear this discussion again."

"You are both good at skinning rabbits," Bran voiced, trying to ease the tension.

"Lady Red...Little Lord...I like to think that _some_ are better at skinning rabbits than _others_ ," Osha spits.

"And I think others should say a thank you to some people who hunt their meat for them whilst the others gather mere berries and herbs," Meera snaps, despite her brother's soft interjections. She looks up from the flames and faces Meera, feeling Osha bristle near her. Her grey eyes meet the blue of her brother's and it seems they both feel the same tension in the air that was rapidly rising. "I am beginning to think they do not teach common courtesy to those beyond the Wall. A little 'thank you' would suffice."

"I said _enough_!" Lysara seethes, the fire roaring as she stands abruptly up alongside Meera and Osha. "I will have _no_ more of this."

"I want you both to stop this!" Her brother cries. "The three of you have been at it since the day we met! I want this to stop!"

"You include me in their petty argument about a _rabbit_? I am taking sides with neither of them about this," Lysara demands before she directs her attention to the Reed's. "I do not trust _them_. I never have nor will I ever trust them. Is it not rather convenient and coincidental that we met them at our most vulnerable? I have dreamt about what will happen to you, to us and it is all because of them taking us beyond the Wall. The world needs _Jon Snow_ and I intend to find him before it is too late. I believe in many things, I believe in the power of R'hllor and I also believe in _him._ We will go to Castle Black and once we have, I cannot decide your fate for you, my winged wolf."

It all fell silent then as she fell to her knees once more and closed her eyes, clasping her hands together and raised them to her chin, praying for more light and less darkness. All her life she was afraid of the dark, as childish as the fear was. It was more of what was lurking within the darkness she was afraid of rather than the darkness itself. It also brought a memory back to her, in times of darkness before she had found the Lord of Light, she always fled to Jon's chambers before her mother and father's chambers. Jon Snow always made her feel _safe_. Lysara always dreamt of him, protecting from the wights in her dreams and brandishing his sword of flame. _He is the bringer of light,_ Lysara convinces herself. It did not matter if it were a hopeless or lost cause. _He must be the Prince who was Promised. He must be._

 _"_ You were screaming again," Meera commented drawing her from her thoughts causing her hollow, downcast eyes to look up into the eyes of the girl. Her brows furrowed slightly and her lips parted to interrupted the girl but the girl continued, "You always scream in your sleep. It grows most disturbing...Tell me, where is your Red God when you have those night terrors? _Show me._ I wish to know, will he save you when we go beyond the Wall? Will he save you when we encounter those _things_ that my brother dreams of? Where is your god?"

"Inside of her," Jojen told his sister causing her brows to furrow. "The fire burns within the unburnt woman."

"The war that our brother fights..." Lysara spoke up, her eyes staring intently into the flame as she stared at the dancing fire and the shadows in pain. "The games that they play. It means nothing to _them._ It means nothing to the winter that is coming. When the cold winds of winter arrive, when the lions no longer roar, when the roses no longer bloom and the stags no longer graze the meadow...when the dragons cannot warm you...only _snow_ and _wolves_ will remain. I often wonder...what will happen when our Lord does not answer our songs? I have dreamt of a night that will go on forever. It is so _dark_ and I am terrified for us. Have I ever told you about the true war?" Lysara inquired, looking towards her younger brother. "The war of light and darkness?"

"Our mother wouldn't let you," Bran pointed out to her. "I remember what she said to you that day when you told us stories. _You horrible, red girl,_ our mother screamed at you."

"Of course," Lysara said softly, a hint of a smile on her face but flames burned behind her eyes. "I remember well."

"I want to know," Her brother demanded and sat up further. " _Please_."

"You will come to know many things, my wolf with wings," Lysara muses in a hushed voice. The fire crackles softly beside her as she begins to tell her tale. "I care not for any war that men may wage against each other. I care not for the crown or the throne of iron that will come to burn. I care only for the war between light and darkness. The true war we will face is between life and death...and should we die...the entire world will die with us. You do not know nor understand what it is like...to constantly hear them _scream..._ " Her breath hitches then when the flames take form. "...All those people that will die at the hands of winter. I hear them cry for their false Gods, for their mothers and for mercy that will never be given to them...the dead do not know of such kindness...do you not hear them, little wolf? They once roared at me...now they whisper. All they do is whisper."

"Mother said that those were just _stories_ ," Bran informed her. "She said that the White Walkers were just a terrifying tale...they are real...aren't they?"

"Aye. Although we may be the enemies of lions, flayed men, Krakens and dragons...we will all come to face our true enemy soon. We will soon face the demons that are made of ice and snow," She told him coldly. "The winds of winter breathed life into the undead and made them rise once more. They are the only enemy that matters.

"Why the Wall, Red Lady?" Osha inquires. "Of all places, why the Wall? Why must you go to this Jon Snow? Why not your mother and brother in the Riverlands? Or someplace warm? You and I both know that the dead _are_ coming. I witnessed them first hand."

"Heroes are no more. The heroes you here from stories died a long time ago," Lysara told them. "I look to the flames and all I see is snow."

An air of melancholy surrounded her then and she could not help but wonder why, the truth she spoke was not sorrowful, it was frightening. The happy cries of her younger brother filled the air once more and she looked up, catching sight of her brother running beside Shaggy Dog as Hodor stomped ungracefully after them. It brought a solemn, small smile to her lips as she stared at her brother before her attention was brought back to the large fire that burned bright and lit up the darkening world around her in an eerie glow that felt almost calming to her.

Lysara let her eyes flutter close and she began to continue her pray, seeking guidance but opened them once more to meet the seductive dance of the flame that she was tempted to touch and caress. The flames were always such a beautiful yet dangerous sight to behold. The burning gold and scarlet danced together, casting shadows as they took the form of strange shapes. The fire had entranced her and she slowly reached further out with a pale hand to let the flame consume her skin, another hand batted her own roughly and she blinked, looking up to see Osha, staring at her with wary eyes.

"I wouldn't go about doing that girl," Osha warned her, scolding her as if she were some mere child. "The fire will burn you."

The flames crackled softly as if in disagreement with the woman. _No_ , Lysara protested to herself as she watched the wild woman retreat away from her and eyed her as she went back to skinning another animal before she found the fire too enticing to look away from. The fire was beautiful and warm. _The flames will not harm me. I am flame. I am fire and fire is power,_ Lysara thought to herself. Her eyes trailed back to fire then and with their crackling came a whisper, a whisper of a name.

" _Jon Snow,_ " Lysara murmured.

* * *

Author's Note: Hey guys, hopefully you like this chapter. A lot of clues about further chapters are in this chapter because from this chapter onward, things will start to get very interesting when they reach the Wall. I would like to thank everyone who has made this one of their favourites, who has followed this story and I would also like to give a massive thanks to everyone who has left a review.

 _Reviews-_

RHatch89: Thank you! I hope you like this chapter.

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you! Hopefully you like this chapter.

Saint River: Lady Catelyn seeing the three eyed crow is up for interpretation. I'm glad you liked Jon, Catelyn and Robb's side of things, there will be more pov's soon involving them. I will be involving some pov's here and there that will give you more of an insight on what the Northern Houses think and I will be involving some of Lysara's commentary on things that have happened in her life involving betrothals that failed between her and other houses. You may get a sneak peek of Ramsay in further chapters. I love the lore to do with beyond the Wall and I will be involving a lot of the lore to do with giants, especially the Others and the Children. You might get to see a sight like that in further chapters as there will be a separation. The next update should be up soon now that I have let the plot settle down a bit.

ATP: Unfortunately, Robb and Lady Catelyn will die like they did in the canon and the events of the Red Wedding will still happen because for this story, the story will be focused primarily beyond the Wall. Lysara will kill again although I won't add who and why just yet.

kksambo: I am still a bit indecisive about various things because if I knew the full plot of my story, I would get bored of writing it and every time I go to write a new chapter, I end up getting newer and better ideas than the ones I originally had. I feel like Lysara's anger wasn't forced at all or was unnecessary drama, she has plenty of reasons to dislike them even though to most people, they would find her reasoning strange. Lysara is a rather flawed character compared to most and is rather hypocritical as she believes the Lord of Light is the one true God to worship and I agree with you when you said she is acting like her mother because she is a bit like her mother when it comes to a certain way of thinking and Lysara has gained certain characteristics from her mother. The way he has warranted her hostility is because he knows more than he is letting on and she knows that he is hiding something, something that unsettles her and the crow that has cropped up in her dreams every now and then has traumatised her since childhood and now that she knows he is involved with the crow in some way, it unsettles her. Lysara is acting as she is frightened of him in a way, she knows about the power both he and her brother possess and their powers make her question herself.

Guest: I hope you like this chapter!


	20. Chapter Nineteen

_The North_

Lysara Stark

Lysara was dreaming that she was in Winterfell for the first time in a long time, she knew she was dreaming as shortly before she went to sleep, they were camped in the woods just beneath a great hill and they were _so_ close to the Wall. The Wall was massive, the tallest she has ever seen but nothing good came from it. All it did was make her shudder. She and Rickon were huddled by the fire, telling stories to him and singing the softest of lullabies to ease him into a gentle sleep.

This was _her_ Winterfell. It was snowing and she remembers it for how it once was giving her a sad longing for her home, oh how sweet it would be to get one more chance to see her family together, whole and safe and alive. The walls were tall and grey like she remembered, the beautiful grey and white Stark banners howling in the wind as they hit against the walls and she inhaled deeply, smelling the burning of the hearths and listening to the sound of children laughing. The horses in the stables made a noise that brought her comfort but nothing brought her more comfort than the sounds of the wolves howling softly.

 _I am Lysara of House Stark, of Winterfell,_ she thinks to herself. _This is my home and no one can take it from me nor my family. It does not belong to dead men nor drowned men. Nor flayed men. It belongs to those with the name of Stark._

Lysara let her eyes flutter close, enjoying the sounds that made her feel safe and took her back to her childhood from the clashing of metal to the loud voices to the wind. Her grey eyes reopened and she was met with Robb. A smile softly appeared on her face. He still looked the same as he once was, before he left to fight a war that he did not deserve to fight. A boy that had to harden into a man. A young wolf. The flakes of snow that fell decorated his unruly auburn locks and made his hair grow wet.

"Lysara," Robb breathes, a fond smile appearing on his face and he takes a step towards her but he abruptly stops, his smile fading and his skin turned deathly pale. her smile fled from her face when she noticed blood slowly trickle from his body and onto the snow below him. "Lysara..."

"Robb..." Lysara trails off, her brows furrowing as she takes a step towards him. "Robb?"

"Mother..." He says, his eyes far away. "...Grey Wind..."

"Robb!" Lysara yells, startled when arrows fly passed her and he drops to his knees and then slumps to the ground, blood painting the snow red around his corpse. " _Robb!"_

 _No!_ Lysara thinks to herself and spins around taking in the castle, suddenly finding Winterfell empty and filled with darkness and despair. The three eyed crow flies over her head and lands at the snow where the blood of her brother was and hesitantly, she takes a few steps towards it, cocking her head to the side before she stills and looks down at the blood. A crimson dragon with three heads.

 _Targaryen,_ she thought to herself before her eyes landed back on the crow who tilts its head towards her before opening its ominous black wings and flies away. It's caws calling her to follow. _A Targaryen in Winterfell? I do not understand, R'hllor. How so? It must be a Stark to rule Winterfell, I broke an ancient oath leaving Winterfell with my brothers. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell and we did not keep our promise...now they are coming and it is all my fault._

Lysara made steps towards the very place she did not desire to go, each step she took was agonising as her boots were soaked and made her toes grow numb from the cold and her body shudders intensely in the chilling cold, she wraps her red cloak around her and stared into the darkness. Lysara was _afraid_ , so afraid but she knew that she must follow the crow. The ruby in her necklace glowed dimly and she clutched it, murmuring prayers under her breath as she finds herself entering the crypts of Winterfell. It is dark inside and there is nothing welcoming to her. Her brothers and sisters were welcomed but she was not, all she felt was hostility and hatred. The dark, she was always so afraid of the dark and it terrified her to walk down those steep and spiralled steps.

 _What will be awaiting me?_ Lysara asked herself and wills for the Lord of Light to guide her.

Lysara makes her way down the steps ever so slowly, so slowly while she keeps her hand against the walls and feels her way down. The torches had been put out and she could not bring herself to will them to light, she was afraid of what she might encounter once in the crypts. The burial ground of her ancestors. It grows darker and darker and she wonders if this is what the Long Night will look like. A nothingness just darkness. The staircase spirals down and her racing heart slows when she reaches the bottom of the stairs.

"Lyanna," A voice calls to her and she turns around, peering into the darkness. " _Lyanna."_

"Father?" Lysara questioned shakily, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Father, I cannot see you. Is that you?"

"I kept my promise, Lyanna," Her father murmurs. "I kept it by the Gods I did. I will tell him someday...I will make sure he knows how much you loved him. _I promise_."

Lysara was startled awake and was meant with nothing but silence, her tired eyes were about to close once more as she pulled Shaggy Dog closer to her body for comfort as Rickon slept beside Brandon and Hodor until she caught something in the corner of her eye. In the shadows of the trees she caught movement, it was quick but she caught it. It reminded her of the monsters she used to believe resided in the darkness and her mind wandered.

It did not dawn on her until she let out a small, heavy breath that she had stopped breathing and instead focused on the movement, too aware of the terrifying silence. Her heart thunders in her chest and she could feel her throat start to close and dry as she focuses on the figure. Her hand drifts down towards her sleeve ever so slowly and slides out the dagger she had kept hidden and holds it up to her chest, her eyes fixated on the tree in front of her.

It was not until she hears their footsteps that she lets her eyes close gently and listens intently to the breaking of twigs beneath their feet...until it fell silent. _Where are they?_ Lysara thinks, managing to keep her grip on the handle of the dagger. It is not until she feels a body kneel beside her that she forces herself upwards, hoping to take them by surprise and bring the dagger down. However, the attacker merely jumps on her, startling Shaggy Dog awake.

" _Osha_ -" Lysara screams as Shaggy Dog begins to circle them and snarls fiercely, his jaws snapping and his teeth gnash together.

Lysara finds herself screaming once more but this time, a cloth is shoved into her mouth, causing her to gag and choke. The dagger is harshly taken from her hold and that is when she raises her knee sharply, causing the attacker to let out a grunt and curse of pain as they stumble back. She moves from underneath him and crawls backwards, using her hands and feet to propel herself away from them but it so dark she does not get a proper look but going by the mere strength and stature of them, she assumes it is a heavily furred man. She roughly pulls out the piece of cloth from her mouth and looks up at the man as he stands and arrogantly strides towards her as she scrambles back. The growls of Shaggy Dog grow louder but the man merely turns his head and hisses at him before turning back to her.

"You are one of those red folk, are you not? Mag the Mighty says so," The man says, a look of wonder appearing on his face. His accent was strange, he sounded younger than he looked. Lysara did not know who this 'Mag the Mighty' was but she assumed that he was a leader of sorts. As the man grows closer, she sees that he has red fiery hair that reaches his shoulders along with scruffy and unkempt beard, his hair was like the flames she worships so dearly. "A Red Priestess? I haven't heard much of your sorts...but I know you can do and _see_ things. I know you can save our people from the dead that are rising."

"You have come far," Lysara notes. "What is it that you seek? If it is life you want, you will not get it here. You must go where summer always resides."

"I think you and I both know that you already know what I seek...My people seek _you_ ," The nameless Wildling man replies, ignoring the direwolf's vicious growls and she prays to R'hllor that his creature of freedom attacks this man soon. "Do not worry, bower to flames. You are in the safest of hands, I can assure you."

Lysara watches as he steps closer with his hand outstretched, she stares at his gloved hand warily before placing her own hand in his. The red haired man brings her abruptly to her feet but before she could shout for Shaggy Dog or Osha, he brings his down and collides his head with her own. Lysara's ears start to ring loudly, like little bells were dangling next to her ears as her vision began to grow darker and soon enough, she was slumped in his hold, having lost herself to the darkness. The last thing she saw was curious green eyes staring down at her.

* * *

Mance Rayder

It was the dead of night and most of his people were asleep but he was not. The dead do not sleep and neither would he, not until he got what was promised to him, to his people. Mance Rayder stared at the high wall made of ice and played a note or two on his lute softly, staring across at his sleeping and heavily pregnant wife before he stood up from his seat and walked towards the small fire in their tent that was dimming and kicked more wood shavings into it, reigniting the flames and watched in amusement as they danced. The silence brought little comfort to him, his life was always filled with music but it also meant that the crows of the Night Watch were not making any attempt to attack them. He remembered the giant, Mag the Mighty and the giant sang only one song. The giant that spoke very little Common Tongue spoke two words to him and those two words would defend his people against the army of the dead.

 _Lysara Stark._

The name Stark was not a name to be taken lightly, the name was as ancient as the First Men and he knew of the dangerous game he was playing, taking the daughter of a Stark and bringing them beyond the Wall. It has been done before and for the sake of his people, he would have it done again. It pleased him knowing that Daramyr would not have to travel far as he received a word here and there that Lysara Stark was travelling to the Wall. To Jon Snow. _It is the hair_ , Mance remarks to himself. _To possess hair of fire is luck._

It was true, he was putting his faith in this Lysara Stark and he had not even met her but he has heard the stories. All who reside in the North have heard of the stories about the alluring Stark Priestess with eyes of ice and crimson clothing. He has heard of many stories throughout the years about the girl and what she was capable of and he was impressed. _The girl is flesh made of fire,_ his wife's sister Val had whispered. _And fire is power. It destroys the White Walkers._ It was not her ability to see the future that he was interested in, it was her _fire_. His folk had not heard much about the likes of the Lord of Light but one story they told him amused him. It is said that those who wear red have made love to the flames and came out _unburnt_.

"You should not worry, my beloved," Dalla murmured, causing him to turn and face her with a raised brow. "The Red Lady shall be within our grasp soon enough. You have not laid down to rest yet, come sleep."

"I cannot," Mance replied, walking towards his wife. "I must be able to welcome her. If I do not, we will have lost her favour and she will not help us like we so desire for her to do so."

"You expect too much of the wearer of red," His wife told him, sitting up from beneath the furs with a small smirk. "The girl is a child, what can a mere child do to defend us against the army of the dead? Our fiercest warriors cannot defend themselves once the White Walkers approach, what makes you think that a little girl can do what we cannot? If she does not deliver, our people will rip her apart, that I can assure you of and then they will come after the person that led them to believe that such a girl could save them and that man is _you_. It would pain me to see you dead, husband."

"A daughter of flame," He said. "The song was sung when the skies began to bleed red. You heard it. I heard it. Our people heard it."

"We can use her," The blonde haired woman he loved advised. "Jon Snow. A crow he may be but I know he will do anything to get his hands on a precious thing of his. As of now, Daramyr is no doubt dragging her to us and once she is beyond the Wall...we can let them know. The Red Lady is Jon Snow's sister. It can benefit us if we have her in our hold. We may be able to get across the Wall if he and his crows knew that we had a Stark in our midst."

"We do not know her," Mance informed her. "What if she is dangerous? A woman of fire..."

"My love..." Dalla said, snuffing out a candle next to her. "The woman of fire can be extinguished."

"The last time a she wolf of Winterfell made it across the Wall," He mused quietly. "The whole of Westeros was shaking from fear of what the Stark men would do to us."

With a grunt, he let his lute rest on the nearby table, glancing at Dalla before he started to make his way out of his warm hut and trekked through the freshly fallen snow, staring up at the Wall that was far off in the distance and prayed that Daramyr, that one of his own folk made it back with the girl of fire. If he was to gain the girl's trust, he prayed that Daramyr did not harm her to make them seem untrustworthy. The man of about ten and nine years perhaps twenty was a rough and smug fool but no one could match his hunting and tracking skills. His skills were unmatched and by dawn, the girl will be beyond the Wall and in their hold.

* * *

Author's Note: Hey, I hope you liked this chapter and I am sorry it took a bit long to update. I was three or four chapters ahead and was going to upload them when I sort of didn't like where it was planning out and suffered a little bit of writer's block but then I redid the chapters I had written when I got another idea on how I was going to get Lysara beyond the Wall because I didn't really like the initial idea I had, so she will be separated from her brothers for a bit and will be experiencing everything beyond the Wall from the people to the creatures. I would like to give massive thanks to everyone that has made this story one of their favourites, followed it and of course, left a review. It means a lot to me! If you have any questions, involving Lysara or this chapter or any other chapter, feel free to ask.

Reviews-

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you, I hope you like this update. I had The Dragon Born on a small hiatus due to going down a different road with it and having to change a lot of the story line for chapters that I wanted to upload but a new chapter will be up soon!

RHatch89: Thank you!

Saint River: I always like to slip a bit of what happened during her childhood in it here and there and getting called that was a frequent part of it. I am not entirely sure if people who worship the Lord of Light are fireproof but I read that some of them can summon and control fire at their own will so I came to a conclusion that they were, in a way and to a certain extent immune to fire and I hope to incorporate that soon into this story now that she will be beyond the Wall. The story can finally get rolling the way I want it to and she will reunite again with Jon soon! And that also means that she and Melisandre will meet in further chapters.

Guest 1: Thank you, there will be definitely more continuity and consistency when it comes to her powers especially when she is beyond the Wall, I think...if I remember right, Melisandre said something along the lines that she felt more powerful at the Wall.

Guest 2: I'm glad you like it, they will meet sometime in the future but until then they will have dreams!

Guest 3: Thank you, I hope you liked this chapter, this is the chapter when the plot truly starts to thicken and stir even more than it has! I'm glad you are excited and they will meet soon, though I haven't included him in his chapter, he will be appearing in some of the chapters to come here and there, like a surprise pov. Lysara has lost a lot of people in a short span of time and she forgets along with a lot of other people, that she is just a teenager and would be frightened like anyone would be in her situation and I hope I have given a lot of characteristics to Lysara that is relatable in a way. You are completely right in think that Lysara holds a grudge for a long time and she will continue to hold and can hold grudges for a very long time!

EMILCE CULLEN-VULTURE: Gracias, me alegro que te guste esta historia!

Guest 4: I hope you like this update, the updates will be up a lot sooner now that I have finally plotted what outcome I want for each chapter.

Fan of This: I'm sorry it took so long to update but I wanted to make sure I had this chapter and the next chapters plot set so I can update it more regularly without getting a bit of writer's block and I wanted to write this story to the best of my capability because what I never want to do is upload a chapter and not be happy with it. I'm glad you find this story pretty unique!


	21. Chapter Twenty

_The Land Beyond The Wall_

Lysara Stark

Lysara kept silent and stared impassively ahead, staring at nothing but the back of an oak coloured horse that the Wildling named Daramyr was riding. She tried to keep what little dignity she had left as she made her way through the deep and cold snow, tugging every so often at the thick ropes that were bound to her wrists. All she could think of was her brothers, her brothers that she could no longer protect and felt nothing but anger towards the man in front of her. _You cannot tame a wolf_ , Lysara thinks to herself. _I am a wolf._ A harsh jerk from the rope makes her arms outstretch and she stumbles forward.

The man with hair kissed by fire turns and faces her, a smug smile present on his face as his eyes take in her exhausted face and he turned back to face the non existent road ahead of them and _laughed_ , throwing his head back as he let out howls. Lysara hated this man, she hated most people but this man she hated with a burning passion as she stared at him with narrowed and cold eyes. _How dare he laugh, this is not a matter to be laughed at!_ This man was crude and left her with a headache that throbbed after she had finally regained consciousness.

It was a shock to her that she was beyond the Wall, it was _beautiful_ but it was a cruel beauty. A harsh beauty. A beauty that she did not want to experience fully. Her wrists were burning and her legs and feet were aching from the amount of walking she had to do through the deep and dangerous snow as she knew that one fall may end her life as they made their way across the mountainous area. _All I see is ice and snow,_ Lysara thinks to herself. _But soon I will see fire and blood._

"Come on, my red Princess," He calls to her. _I am not yours._ "Keep moving. If you do not, you will freeze."

"I will not freeze," Lysara informs him lightly, despite the fury she felt. "The light of R'hllor keeps me warm. I have fire inside of me."

"Rollo?" Daramyr slurs, trying to pronounce the name. "Who's that? Is he your husband?"

"No. I have no husband," She answers. "The Lord of Light is my God. R'hllor, he is the _true_ God."

"Gods," He scoffs and rolls his eyes before he looks ahead. "I care very little about them. All we Free Folk care for is the food in our bellies and if we will live to see the next day without turning into a wight. It looks like we were close, travelling in the dead of night cost me a night's worth of sleep but it was worth it, I did not have to worry about a crazed red woman lunging at me with a dagger. I was doing a bit of spy work for Mance, I have been watching you for _days_ and might I say, pretty lass, that you have a pretty arse? The giant, not so much. Are you a Queen of Wolves? That damned wolf of yours bit me thrice! Then another bastard wolf came along and started to attack my horse. You'd think stealing you would be an easy task, lass, I can assure you that it wasn't. It was bloody horrible. I've had a terrible time and they say that red hair is _lucky_ , my arse! I think that you are an omen of some sort, it seems that the people around you have the worst luck..."

"You have stolen me away from me brothers. I will never forgive you," She murmured, trying to not roll her eyes.

"I did not steal you because I wanted you, I stole you for my people and you will help us, if not...I will take your head." Daramyr said firmly.

"It was not Mance Rayder that desired me," Lysara corrects him. "It was Mag Mar Tun Doh Weg. It was not until the birth of the dragons did he sing of my name. I dreamt of Mance after you decided to take it upon yourself to knock me unconscious. I thank you, I would not have been able to obtain the information I needed without your _help_. "

"How the fuck did you know that? That is some creepy shite, lass!" The Wildling responds, before taking a glance back at her blank face and started to laugh. It was a boisterous sound and she wondered how it could come from such a man, she has not been able to laugh since she saw the dead in her dreams. As she stared into his eyes, she saw a fear, a fear hidden by various emotions, most of his feelings were of confliction but his eyes let her see all and she feared for what was to come. "I can't complain, though, I stole myself a pretty southern woman. That spiteful bastard Tormund will be in a mood that I came back with you. He made a bet that I wouldn't and look at us now, leagues beyond the Wall with the bower to flames at my side."

"I am not from the South," She tells him. "I am from the North."

"No. You are a southerner to us Free Folk," Daramyr retorts, letting out a chuckle. "All that belongs north of the Wall is southern to us, wearer of red. You look a bit like that crow...did you know that bastard wolf of his stole my hunt. It was the first deer I had seen in weeks and the moment my arrow struck it, that wolf ran off with it."

"Jon Snow," Lysara said, staring ahead as she minds her footing. _And Ghost, how I have missed you both._ "He is blood of my blood."

"It's too bad that I have gotten to you first," He said, a smirk crawling onto his face. "You won't be seeing your pretty brother anytime soon."

"Your little war with the crows to get beyond the Wall is nothing compared to the war that is coming. It is rather amusing actually, that you actually think that getting beyond the Wall will keep you safe. It will...but only for a time," She informed him, his normally pink face turned white at her mentioning this. "My white wolf will listen to me, I know he will. The army of the dead are riding with the winds of winter and if the realms are guarded by a united people, we will live. I do not want us to fail, it is not in our Lord of Light's will to let us fail, so you must take me to Jon Snow. You must take me to him! If you do, I swear that both you and your people will get beyond that Wall before the dead come for us."

"You'd actually side with us?" Daramyr asked hesitantly, casting a glance at her over his shoulder and this time he rode a tad gentler, allowing her wrists to fall back to her lap. "You jest, wearer of fire."

"You are not monsters. No matter where we are from or who we are, we all bleed the same, it is known," She says simply, her voice barely above a whisper and keeps her eyes downcast as she trudges through the snow, her toes curling tightly in her boots as she took care in not slipping in the snow or the ice covered stones. "If I were born beyond the Wall...I would do everything within my power to ensure that my family could live. It is a sad song I must sing about my family. A family that I long for but shall never touch as they will always be out of my reach by the tips of my fingers. I learned upon the death of my father, that they can take everything from me...my hope...my pride...my _life_...but by R'hllor, nothing will stop me upon the day they come for my brothers..."

"We are here, lass," He informs her gruffly, causing her to stiffen and she looks up. "Do not fret, my little red lass. I will protect you, I swear by it."

It was a large encampment filled with life as the Wildling tended to their affairs, she stares at them in wonder as she passes them and some still when their eyes land on her and the camp slowly turns silent as she was brought further into the camp. The eyes of hundreds if not thousands were on her as she trailed through the camp, Daramyr dismounted from his horse and led it to a nearby woman who took the reins and led the brown horse away as he continued to make his way through the Wildling camp with her.

The scruffy red haired man led her towards a large hut, adorned in heavy furs and she could faintly hear music emitting from it and she could scarcely believe. It was not something she has ever heard of before, music beyond the Wall. It played a joyful tune on a lute that was all too familiar with her as she and the Wildling man entered the hut and her eyes landed on the many Free Folk gathered in the large hut. Her eyes landed particularly on a man who was playing the lute and singing in a language that brought a chill down her spine.

 _The Old Tongue,_ Lysara thought to herself. _A tongue so ancient and old that it is nearly lost to Westeros._

Although she did not understand it, she could pick up certain words such as the words 'white' and 'snow' from it. For a mere moment, she was in the great hall of Winterfell with her family surrounding her. Her sister Sansa would sigh dreamily at the delightful and soothing melodies that would come from the lute but when livelier tunes picked up her younger siblings would dance around wildly to the songs the King beyond the Wall sang. The man was sat beside two beautiful blonde women and before long, his eyes opened and the brown eyed man looked towards her but nevertheless continued to play the instrument until the song came to an end.

"Mance," Daramyr addressed, pushing her further towards Mance Rayder. "I have brought you the wearer of red."

"The woman is red," The first blonde woman snaps. "She is terrible _and_ red. How is that girl any use to us?"

"I heard the red folk can bring back folk from the dead..." The second woman replies, a hint of a smirk on her face. "No better than the Night's King, if you ask me."

"You are all that I expected and more, Lysara Stark," The man speaks up, placing his lute down as he stands.

He unsheathes a dagger from his belt and approaches her, raising the dagger slightly and grasps her wrists with his other hand before bringing the dagger down on the rope, cutting her bindings. Mance Rayder hacks at it and when the rope slides from her wrists and drops to the ground, he releases her wrists causing her to immediately clasp them behind her back. Lysara eyes him carefully, watching his every move before he brings up his hand and goes to caress her cheek with the back of it but she takes a step back and hisses at him.

" _Do not touch me_ ," Lysara snarls quietly, the fire pits roaring with newfound life causing a few of the Free Folk to let out startled noises.

In the large hut, there was five or six fire pits and all she wished for was that they would topple over and set the hut alight with her and her captors in it. All she wanted was her brothers, brothers who were in grave danger and she could not get to them. Lysara has never felt such humiliation, such hopelessness and all she wanted to do was stand back and watch the entire world burn as she basks in the flames that she has always had and always known.

"I do not have to touch you and I can feel the _fire_ from your skin," Mance mutters. "You have come a long way. I want to talk about-"

"I know what you wish to discuss," She spits harshly, taking another step back but a hand on her back stops her.

"You do?" The younger of the blonde woman inquires. "I told you before, Mance. The lass is nothing but a witch, slit her throat and be done with it!"

"You can't do that I'm afraid," Daramyr drawls. "I already made a promise to protect her."

"You do not understand. You have to take me to Jon Snow-" She begins but is interrupted, causing her to grow agitated.

"I am not going to hand you over to that crow," The King beyond the Wall said. "You do not make commands, Lysara. You are beyond the Wall. You no long belong to the land where you must kneel."

"You must. The night is coming and it will be a long one," Lysara explains. "I have dreamt of spring and it will come again. You may look to Jon Snow and see a crow while others may see a bastard. You are wrong. The entirety of Westeros is wrong. He is the Lord's chosen, I have seen him in the flames. I have seen him leading our fight against the army of the dead, against the darkness and the Long Night. I have seen the army of the dead in the flames and they _are_ coming. The flames have never lied to me. My Lord has never lied to me. The prophecy says that when the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be reborn amidst smoke and salt. If you take me to Jon Snow, I will bring you beyond the Wall. You can help me reclaim Winterfell. I can offer you and your people refuge in my home."

"You _honestly_ believe this?" Mance Rayder asks slowly, after a long period of silence.

"Aye," She fiercely said. "I do. I would not be here otherwise."

"I have never heard such shite!" A man growls, causing her to turn around and face a burly man dressed heavily furs.

"Enough, I wish to hear what else the deluded red wearer has to say," The second blonde haired woman leers.

"Are we honestly going to listen to the likes of her? A _Stark_! A little girl!" The man roars, ignoring the blonde woman who was telling him to stand down but he did not as he continues to rile up the crowd of Wildlings that were gathered in the hut. The fire began to dance wildly as she took their angered faces in. "Have they not oppressed us? Have they not _starved_ us? Enslaved us? Have they not killed thousands if not millions of our people? That fucking wall was built by a Stark and we were left behind to die because of it! That girl is nothing but a _kneeler_ and kneeler she will stay! I say _enough_! Why should we listen to her? Why should we follow her? I say we rip her head off and send it back to the very crow that betrayed us and killed our kind! Mag the Mighty _lies_! We have no need of her, no matter what Mance says."

"Leave her alone! You are one to talk!" A freckled face woman with fiery hair snarls, giving him a rough shove which makes them break into a brawl, fists and weapons were flying and clashing. All she could do was watch in both fascination and in fear, she has only seen the likes of this kind of fighting between feral animals.

Her eyes widened slightly as many Wildlings began to advance on them with their weapons raised as they chanted a war cry for her death, despite Mance's commands they did not listen and even when Daramyr tried to calm them down they did not listen. It seemed he kept to his word though as he stood in front of her with his weapon raised and pointed it towards any man or woman who came close to her.

 _They are wild like their namesake_ , Lysara thinks to herself.

A hand roughly grasped her by her hair and tugged her towards them causing her back to collide with their chest and an arm wrapped around her throat, her breath hitched and she let her eyes flutter close but the moment the knife met her neck an unearthly and guttural roar made everyone quieten as it shook the very hut. _What was that?_ Lysara asks but before she could answer, the knife was away from her neck and she was shoved back towards Mance.

"The giants," He murmured, his eyes looking towards the door before they fell back to her. "They have been longing to meet you."

"Giants?" Lysara repeated with furrowed brows.

 _The giants are no more,_ she thought to herself and it was a sad song. It always brought tears to her eyes when the bards sang ballads of giants or her Old Nan told her stories about the giants. Mance Rayder grasped her by the arm and began to drag her towards the door but her mind was focused intently on the tragic tale of giants. The door opened wide and she was instantly greeted with a sight that made her heart nearly stop. Her eyes focused on their large feet before she let her eyes trail up their large body until her eyes landed on them. They were bigger than Hodor and bigger than any castle she has come across. Her eyes widened when their eyes met and their roars became quiet snarls, the giant's beady eyes were trained on her. _It...It cannot be..._

"Mag the Mighty," Mance addresses him loudly. "We meant Lysara Stark no harm, I promise. No blood has been spilt."

Lysara frowns and wonders what he meant by this but nevertheless she was entranced by standing in front of the nineteen perhaps twenty foot giant. It was said that giants only stood at eleven or maybe twelve feet but he was taller than all of the rest. Lysara lets her hands fall to her side as she slowly approaches, staring up at him in awe. A faint growling and grumbling can be heard from him as she approached. As she grows closer, he growls louder causing her to suck in a sharp breath.

"I am here to help you...I promise that I will," Lysara explains softly, her voice was loud enough for the giant to hear, though. At first, she was unable to form proper sentences without stumbling over her words as she stared up at him in pure fascination, her hardened eyes went wide and awe filled. "I made a promise and I do not take breaking my promises lightly. I used to love the stories my Old Nan used to tell me about you, she used to tell me all about your kind and beyond the Wall. I fell inlove with those stories. I did not care for the rest of them, they mattered little to me but the stories about giants and direwolves and the Last Hero, I loved those ones. The ones with magic...It made me feel a little less lonely than I was. I remember when I was merely a child I asked, 'where are the giants of old?' and Old Nan laughed at me, all my siblings laughed like it was a jest I made but I was not jesting. My father told me that the giants were no more...I cried myself to sleep that same night...but here you are...an ancient and proud kind...somehow managing to still survive, after all this time...this cannot be real…"

"Red," The giant grumbles, his harsh pronunciations of the words of her mother tongue were spoken to her. " _Fire_."

"Yes," Lysara breathes, tears in her eyes as she looks at him with a gentle nod of her head. "I am _red_. I am red and _terrible._ I am fire made flesh."

* * *

Author's Note: Hey, I hope you liked this chapter and chapter twenty one should be up soon! In the books, there were more giants than Mag the Mighty and Wun Wun and I wanted to include that in this story as well, so there will be more involving giants in general and I look forward to writing about that. I would like to give a massive thank you to everyone that has read this story and also left a review, who has made this story one of their favourites and have also followed this story. If you have any questions regarding anything feel free to ask! If you have a favourite or particular trait about Lysara that you like or don't like, let me know!

Reviews -

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you, I hope you like this chapter!

EMILCE CULLEN-VULTURI: Gracias!

RHatch89: Thanks, I hope you like chapter twenty!

Saint River: Thank you, I am glad you liked chapter nineteen and I hope you like chapter twenty as well. Yeah, she and the Wildlings won't get along right away because of who she is and who they are, so there will be a bit of conflict between her and some of the Free Folk. Yes, Jon is back at the Wall after separating from Ygritte. And your right, Mance did assume that she had red hair. I hope you liked her talking with Mance and her short moment with giants and soon enough, she will encounter her greatest fear. In a past chapter I won't mention what in case I spoil it but something she has done, she will be able to do to the wights and White Walkers in the future chapters.

Fan of This: It's okay and thank you for reviewing, I hope you like chapter twenty! There will be much more involvement with her and the people beyond the Wall (including the giants) there is a lot of lore in the ASOIAF series to do with beyond the Wall that I will incorporate into this story that not many people might now about. I will gradually be giving her more power and I will definitely keep your ideas and thoughts in mind. I haven't seen the film but I will try and watch it if I can to see. I don't have writer's block anymore and I have finally enough plot for at least ten chapters or so but then I always have an overactive mind so I come up with new ideas even when I have a plot put in place but certain things are definitely set in stone for how I want this story to pan out.

Arianna Le Fey: Thank you, I'm glad you think so and I hope you like chapter twenty! The next chapter will include a pov from Aegon but I won't mentioning much about it yet as it has a big part of the plot and a reveal about something major. A lot of the prophecy will be revealed in a later chapter so I will sort of be keeping quiet about it but I will be slipping in and dropping a few hints. I usually do have some foreshadowing in each chapter.

celticank: Thank you, I hope you like this chapter


	22. Chapter Twenty One

_Winterfell_

Young Griff

"A dragon alone in the world..." He mocked, his icy blue eyes peering at him menacingly. "It _truly_ is a terrible thing."

Aegon stared coldly at him, keeping his hands firmly clenched at his sides while he bit his tongue, drawing blood when he started to taste it on his lips. After weeks of travelling North, they had come to discover that Winterfell was in the possession of House Bolton or to be more specific, Roose Bolton's bastard son, Ramsay Snow. At first, he was angry at the sight he was greeted with upon arriving at Winterfell, all he seen was the flesh coloured banners of House Bolton and the next sight he was greeted with in the yard was two burnt bodies of small boys hanging. It sickened him knowing the fate that befell the innocent boys, Bran and Rickon.

It gave him a bitter reminded of the injustice in the world. _I will answer injustice with justice_ , he thought to himself. After the anger subsided, he grew sad. There was a beauty in the North that unfortunately many of his men did not see, it was a wild beauty and he embraced it as they journeyed to Winterfell. Young Griff thought on Lysara Stark and was glad that she had disappeared. If he could not find her nor could Ramsay and for that, he was glad. Until I find her myself, no one can harm her. Aegon still had frequent dreams of her and he wondered if she dreamt about him. _All of the dreams, he had held such beauty._

Young Griff had wanted to see the grey and white direwolf banners of House Stark above Winterfell instead he saw nothing but flayed men and cruelty. He heard the stories about Ramsay Snow. The man was a rapist, a murderer and a traitor. The stories he heard were horrific and he thought back to the fate of the mother he never knew. No man should ever lay a hand on a woman or child. Aegon had seen many injustices in his childhood but nothing angered him more when he sees women or children getting beaten.

 _What gives them the right?_ He thinks to himself as he stares at the hideous man. The man's eyes and the gauntness of his face made him uncomfortable, his eyes were not impassive like he initially thought they would be but instead, they were cruel and taunting, hanging too close to the edge of insanity. He wondered if his grandfather possessed such eyes. Aegon felt Ser Connington tense next to him as he took a step forward. It took all of his will and strength not to drive the man through with his sword.

"I offered your father terms of peace, he refused," Aegon began impassively. "I offered _you_ terms of peace and you refused."

"You see, I have heard a story or two about you..." Ramsay mused, pressing the tip of his dagger into his finger as he leant forward in his chair, a smirk ever present on his face. "You have balls, don't you? I tend to cut those precious parts off, Reek can vouch for me. I took away his most prized possession. He cried when I took it from him. He cried when I took a lot of things from him actually. My father told me that you sent a letter to Robb Stark demanding Lysara Stark's hand. I can understand why, though, I heard she is a _fine_ woman. I have sent the Umber's to find her and when they do, I look forward to having such a woman in my bed. My brother was once betrothed to her, you know? He rather liked her, said that she liked fire...Targaryen's like fire as well...you burn your enemies, I flay mine. I was trained to kill my enemies, boy."

"As was I," Young Griff responds stiffly.

"Ah, yes!" Ramsay said, smiling sadistically as he slammed the point of the dagger into the table. "Your family. You're an only child now, as am I. I love being an only child, don't you? It gives us so much power. I was finally given the respect and recognition I sought for after my dearly departed brother Domeric's death. I would have enjoyed watching your mother _scream_ as she died while the Mountain fucked her bloody. I can't say much about you Targaryen's but I cannot fault you for how you deal with your enemies like your dear old grandfather did."

"We are not here to discuss the wrong doings of my family, Lord Ramsay," Aegon said fiercely. "I would look to your own sins before you look to my family's."

"You are a fine looking boy...You have a pretty face, such nice eyes that I would like to gauge out. My pack of dogs have not fed in a while and my dogs have a certain taste and hunger for human flesh, particularly a woman's but I suppose you look feminine enough...they might mistake you for one. My dogs are starving. I wonder which part they will chew on first...your face? Your cock? You have your terms and I have my own." Ramsay tells him, a cruel smirk making its way onto his face as his eyes brightened with a mad gleam. "I want you and your army to turn away from Winterfell. I want you-"

"I am not surrendering to the likes of you," Aegon interrupts. "You are to surrender not I."

"All the Targaryen's are gone," Ramsay sneers, his lips pursing into a small snarl and he eyes the man's yellowing teeth and noticed that his gums were a light pink like the colour of the cloak he wore and seemed to be bleeding. The man may have been dressed finally but he still was hideous. "Your reign is over. I want you and your ten thousand scum to leave Winterfell. If not, my men and I will kill you and your army of twenty thousand."

" _My reign_?" Young Griff inquires softly, his brows raised as he finds himself smiling. "My reign has just begun."

"You're a smart boy, aren't you? I want you to kneel before me and turn your army away from my gates. I want you to proclaim me the Lord of Winterfell," Ramsay replied, his voice low and dangerous which made him look on with slight wariness. "I may let you live if you do so. All I need is twenty men to destroy the likes of you...you don't have any friends...you don't have any allies...like I said a Targaryen, all alone in the world."

"No," Aegon said firmly. "I will fight you for Winterfell. You and I."

"Aegon. You cannot simply-" Ser Jon begins but he turns to face him, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Alright, dragon spawn...I accept," Ramsay said, accepting the challenge with the smirk widening even further like his eyes did, a feral gleam present in them. "It will take place at dusk on _my_ terms. You can fight, can you not? If you can't, pretty boy, I will even allow him to fight your battles for you."

After they turned and he stormed out of the hall, the sound of Ramsay Snow's mocking laughter echoed in his mind as he marched down the hall and back into the frost covered courtyard, he could hear Ser Connington calling his name causing him to still and he turns back to face him. Aegon's eyes were trained on the man and he watched as the ageing man limped towards him, a heavy frown set on his concerned and frightful face. Young Griff's own brows furrowed as they walked back towards the gates.

"Aegon!" Ser Jon hissed, his eyes narrowing as he grasped his arm tightly. "I thought I told you to mind your tongue?"

"I said I would only if he held his," Aegon informed him.

"You cannot fight him. You-"

"You are here to advise me, Ser Jon. You are my Hand but I do not want you questioning me ever in front of my enemies again," Young Griff replied calmly, clasping his hands behind his back. "If you do, I will send you away and make another my Hand. He has his champion and I have my own."

Aegon hoped that when Westeros knew of his existence and knew of his survival, they would ally with him. He knew that the Northerners had little to no choice but to ally with House Bolton or be slaughtered. He would give them a choice. He would not give House Bolton mercy, he would answer their injustice against House Stark with justice. He would not become his father. He would not become his grandfather. He would become a dragon. His grandfather and father were not true dragons, they could _burn_ but he could not. He was one with the fire. _Fire made flesh,_ Ser Jon claimed he was. _A true dragon._

"You do not have a named champion, what are you thinking boy? Do you even know what you have done?" Ser Jon demanded though he could hear him struggle to not slap him around the head to scold him as he had done so to him many, _many_ times as a child. As a child, his tongue and his frequent desire to run off and explore landed him in difficult situations and it was always Ser Jon who saved him, who advised him and raised him. Rhaegar Targaryen _may_ have been his father but he did not raise him, Jon Connington did and he was more of a father than Rhaegar could ever be. "You and I both know that the moment you face him, he will set his hounds on you. Who is your champion?"

" _Fire_."

* * *

 _The Land Beyond The Wall_

Lysara Stark

It was the drums that were playing which drew her in, the drums were present when she arrived and they remained even after she was beyond the Wall. It was not the sounds of the drumming along that entranced her it was the sounds the dancers made around the large pyre as they danced their _upcoming_ victory. They hollered and roared and screamed. It will not end well for them and she had warned them but they did not listen, she simmered when a woman by the name Ygritte mentioned she'd take her back to Jon Snow as he had somehow managed to slight her.

A few of the Free Folk had warmed to her as the tension lessened when Daramyr introduced her to his family. He had two young sisters and four young brothers, it painfully reminded her of her own family and she could not help but feel envy run through her veins when she saw how happy they were to have him back. The heavily pregnant Dalla and Val begrudgingly told her about their customs and traditions, although most of them were familiar to her, this tradition was not.

 _You can join in with dance. You might not like it, in fact, many folks will not like it but the moment you sing with the giants and sleep in our camp you become a part of us,_ the words of Dalla danced in her mind. _You are safe here. You are not hunted here. You have free will here. You can do as you please, worship who you want. No one can control you. Your heart is free as ours and only you have the courage to follow it._

Lysara had to admit, the subtle warning made her curious but as of now while she sat by the two giants, plucking leaves from a stick, she felt nothing except comfort. A feeling she had not felt in a long time and it was such a strange yet sweet feeling. A feeling that would not last long. All she could do was marvel at the utter and _pure_ magic beyond the Wall.

The fire was far more beautiful and wild than she could have ever imagined, the wisps of flames and the whispers beckoned her closer, entrancing and romancing her as she found herself rising to her feet. _Come closer,_ the fire urged. _Closer._ The fire fell silent to her once more when the drums and various other instruments that were played grew louder and louder. It seemed the fire had fallen for the music as well. The sound was feral and had a rhythmic beat that made her hips slowly sway without warning.

An eager hand took her own before she could comprehend what had happened and she looked down to see Daramyr's brother, Jarald. He was talking eagerly and excitedly to her but she found his words fell on her deaf ears but she reluctantly let him pull her towards the fire and the other people who danced and drank next to the flames. Jarald was ages with Rickon and all she saw was his face when she took in the young boy's auburn hair and honey coloured eyes.

"Dance! Dance with me, Red Lady!" Jarald proclaimed, pulling her closer. " _Dance!"_

She unwillingly let out a loud laugh when the young boy began to swing himself around wildly, keeping his grip on her hands, the laugh escaped her lips as her hair fell out of place and her wild, curly hair went flying as he spun around. By R'hllor, it was a beautiful sight to behold. It was the most beautiful night she has ever bore witness to. The fire was burning bright, roaring and moving with the wild people. The sky had faded to a dark purple and she saw stars dance with her and the Free Folk. The moon had started to show, white and glowing, making the snow glisten beneath them. To dance around the fire was a pleasure she has not been given in a long time and the music was enthralling, capturing her in its feral hold.

Lysara felt her breath catch as she caught Mance Rayder and his wife, Dalla watch her. In fact, many people who had taken to drink over dance appeared to be watching her. Daramyr was sat next to Tormund Giantsbane, who kept nudging him and nodding her way. It made her lift a brow but her attention was directed back to the small boy that barely reached her waist as he stood on her boots as she twirled them around the fire, every so often lifting him high in the air.

The drums grow louder, deeper and faster. The world started to spin but soon enough she caught sight of Daramyr once more but this time, he was approaching them. His eyes held a glint that Theon held to often, causing her to eye him carefully. He remained silent as he shrugged off his heavily furred cloak and let it drop to the ground as he made his way through the dancers towards them which made her come to an abrupt stop.

" _Dance!"_ Jarald urged.

The night was going to be a cold and long one but dancing by the fire gave her comfort, it made her feel closer to her Lord of Light and she prayed that he vanquished the terrors. The night was dark and full of them but she has come to learn, that some of the terrors...some of them wore human faces and that made the night all the more terrifying. _Dance,_ the fire hissed at her as the flames took form and began to dance their own dance. _Dance_.

"Go on," Daramyr murmured, looking down at the boy and ushered him away with his hand. "Go find your mother."

His fingers laced through hers and he pulled her closer to the fire where she could feel the heat from the flames. The red haired man had let go of her hand for a moment or so before he lifted up her right hand and threaded his fingers through her own after pressing the palms of their hands together. His other hand trailed down to her waist until he let his fingers settle on her hips. Her free hand rested on his shoulder and that is when a smirk appeared on his face as he pulled her closer to his chest.

"Let us see how well you can dance," Daramyr said. "Red Lady."

All she could do was nod stiffly and with that, she began to listen to the drums that made her settle into a sway. Lysara licked her dry red lips as they spun in a circle, Daramyr practically lifting her in the air by her waist before he set her down. At first, she thought that he would have her attention but it was the fire she was settled in while she danced. Lysara swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat as she ran her hand down his chest before she shoved him away and began to dance on her own, spinning and swaying.

The fire is all she has ever known, ever since she was a child, all she had was _fire._

 _Do not touch that, idiot girl!_ The Septa scolded. _Do you want to be burned?_

 _Lysara!_ Her father scolded her. _The fire will burn you._

 _You truly are an idiot,_ Theon sneered. _You can't go about touching fire. It burns!_

 _I wouldn't go about doing that girl,_ Osha warned _. The fire will burn you._

The moment she grew closer to the fire, the closer she could _feel_ it. The fire would never harm her. It was true, fire burns brighter in the dark and all she could do was spin around it, weaving and moving her hands as if to beckon it closer towards her. She let her hands trail down her breasts and her stomach before she let them trail to her hips as she swayed. The fire was roaring and she felt them become one she danced around the flames.

The fire caught the small train of her crimson dress and she watched in wonder despite the looks of horror she received as it began to wrap around the entirety of the bottom of her dress. All the frantic cries to her, calling her to flee from the flames went unheard as she continued to dance, not caring for the fire that was slowly consuming her. It consumed her mind, body and soul. Lysara has never such power like this before. It was euphoric. It was _delicious._

 _I am fire made flesh and fire is power._

* * *

Author's Note: Hey, I hope you liked this chapter. I would, first of all, like to thank all of you who have read and reviewed this story, who have made this story as one of your favourites and have followed it. I hope you liked the surprise pov. If you have any questions, feel free to ask and the next update should be up soon! This chapter was a bit shorter than what I usually write but the next chapter will be longer for everything that I will put into it.

Reviews-

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you! I hope you like this chapter.

Toliveinafantasy: Thank you, I'm glad you think so and I hope you like this chapter!

ATP: I believe Lysara does make a difference plus Ramsay will be battling Aegon in the next chapter!

ladyres: Lysara finally meets them all of them but all of that will change during the battle of Castle Black. As for Olly dying, he will die but I won't say why, when, how or who kills him.

Saint River: Thank you, I'm glad you liked that scene between them at first I was unsure of how I should go about it but I am glad I went down that road. I am glad you could picture it, although I have what she looks like in my head and don't really use face claims, Katie McGrath was the closest to what I pictured her as. It was her in image, I photoshopped it a bit but it was her. I can say for definite there will be a lot more giants and I will be including a scene with mammoths soon! I hope Aegon's pov in this chapter slightly cleared it up a bit. I can picture that too and I can that in a few more chapters Aegon will make the decision to head to the Wall but why he makes that decision I won't reveal yet.

Fan of This: Thank you! I hope you like this chapter. Her connection with fire will always be a strong focus in this story and I can't wait to write about her when she is at her full potential. I like to think of building up her powers based on types of fires, she grows from candle light to a campfire to a forest fire to eventually wildfire.

Guest: A lot of the time frames differ for each chapter, it took them hours and hours to get across to the other side of the Wall.

EMILCE CULLEN-VULTURI: Gracias!

celticank: Thank you! Lysara and Jon will be reunited soon. As for that, I can't mention anything yet.

RHatch89: Thank you!

Roose's Leech: Thank you. I had a thought that the religion of R'hllor (or the Lord of Light) is an almost vital part of the story but isn't really mentioned much and I had an idea about creating a character that worships him and the price they have to pay for worshipping him almost. I'm glad that achieved all of those firsts because I wanted this story to be original like no other. Although I like writing all three of my stories for different reasons. I like writing this story for the lore, for the magic and because she is a character that isn't necessarily good but she isn't necessarily bad.

jman007: Thank you!


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

_Meereen_

Daenerys Targaryen

Daenerys felt as if she had been walking for years, searching through the darkness in her dreams for a sign. A sign of something other than the cold beneath her feet and the darkness that consumed her. The full moon gave her little light and the little white flakes landing on her skin had burned her. Although she was a woman unburnt by fire, it seemed ice could.

It was foreign to her but she knew what it was. It was snow. All she could see was snow and darkness. The white as snow trees she passed, stared at her with eyes that cried blood and they appeared to be glaring at her, giving her great discomfort. _Leave,_ the crimson leaves seemed to hiss at her as they blew softly in the wind that was picking up. _You do not belong here. Leave._

Daenerys continued to make her way through the horrible woods, her sandals slipping on ice covered rocks as she stepped on them to avoid the snow but it was inevitable as the snow was between her toes and made her pale toes turn a light blue like the dress she wore. The woods was solemn and the trees seemed to sing a sad song that almost brought tears to her eyes when she made her way towards a castle with grey walls.

She could see movement catch her eyes and she turned abruptly on her heel, careful not to slip on the eyes and stared intently at the trees. Daenerys could have sworn she saw a dark shadow moving swiftly between the trees. The night was turning colder. It was cold, _so_ cold and her entire body was shaking as she moved towards the figure, abandoning her walk to the castle.

"I know there is someone there," Daenerys said, her voice was carried with the wind. "Who's there?"

The figure was fast on their feet and before she could speak up once more, she found herself staring back at a large red bird. It was beautiful and ethereal with fiery red feathers that had an orange or yellow feather here and there, the tail of the bird was long as it remained perched on a low branch of the red leaved tree and reminded her of the long tails of a peacock when they were not open and proud. She marvelled at it before lifting up her long silken skirt and made her way towards the bird with a hand outstretched for it. The bird was the size of a swan and the bird was glowing a faint glow in the darkness. The bird had strangest of eyes, they were a gentle grey that reminded her of the moon above her. It was a bird with exotic features and she wondered if the bird was like her, the last of the dragons. Never before had she seen such a bird.

"Hello," Daenerys began kindly with a warm smile as she approached the smile. It trilled at her and fluttered its wings softly, reminding her of her children before they had grown. She hushed the bird and with the back of her finger began to stroke the side of its brown beak. The grey eyed bird's eyes seemed to stare into her very soul and heart, the stare that only humans could possess and she wondered if the stories that her brother told her about their ancestors warging into dragons were true to an extent, except this was a human trapped within a bird. "Do you know where we are?"

Daenerys let out a gasp when the bird began to make a strange gagging noise before it burst into flames and her eyes widened as she took a step back, watching as the bird spread its fiery wings and flew from the branch and into the dense and dark woods. The fire bird was flying from branch to branch, looking back at her every so often as if it wants her to follow it. She gave a gentle nod and made her way through the woods, hurrying after the bird that seemed to be dancing with the fire that surrounded it as it flew away.

"C-Come back!" She cried hoarsely, following after the bird. "Come back!"

Daenerys stilled when the bird flew into a large fire, it was not the bird flying into the flames that caught her attention but it was the woman standing next to the fire. It was the same woman she met in Qarth. _Quaithe_ , she thinks to herself as she stares at the woman covered in a black cloak. The woman seems to stare into the flames for a moment or so before turning to face her. The brown eyes of Quaithe behind the red wooden mask she wears meet her purple.

" _You_ ," Daenerys excuses. "You are the cause of this."

"You are the one that did not listen to my warnings," The woman murmurs, shadows dancing around her. "Ignorant girl."

"What warnings?" She asks, blinking for a moment before she takes a step forward. "I am doing as you say. I have done everything that you have told me to do!"

"You are trusting the very people I told you not to," Quaithe scoffed. "The _bear_. The _sun's son._ The _perfumed seneschal._ You trust them. You cannot trust them. You cannot trust them nor the krakens, the dark flame, the lion, the dragons raised by a griffin and wolves. You cannot trust any of them, Mother of Dragons. I have seen it, they will come to betray you somehow or other. If truly do as I say, you would cast out the bear and the sun's son. You would rid yourself of the perfumed seneschal. You have not done any of those things."

"Who can I trust if I cannot trust anyone?" Daenerys asked, growing agitated with the woman's vague responses and riddles.

"You can trust one," The woman in the red mask told her, holding up a single and sharp talon finger.

"Who?" She inquired, her brows furrowing.

"The phoenix," The masked woman replied. "The one birthed from ice and reborn from fire. Find her."

"Where?" Daenerys demanded before stilling when she noticed the bird emerge from the flames and perch itself on the woman's cloaked shoulder, she watches as Quaithe hums softly as the bird parts its lips and begins to sing a song, the same sorrowful song she heard in woods earlier that reduced her almost to tears. The song reminded her of the loneliness she felt. The pain of being the last of her kind and she could feel tears in her eyes but she blinked them away. "Where can I find this so called phoenix?"

"First," Quaithe began, the fire around seemed to dance and move wildly. Daenerys stared into the heart of the flames and seen a shadow take form. It appeared to be taking the shape of a dog, howling at the moon. _No, not a dog..._ Daenerys corrects herself. _A wolf._ "You must travel to a land of never ending winter and only then will you find the phoenix. The bird with fire made flesh. The bird is the last of its kind.

"Like me..." She trails off but Quaithe merely laughs, her laugh made her wary and she took a step back from the dangerous woman. _Is she a dangerous friend or foe?_

"No," The woman denies. "You are not the last of your kind. If you find the phoenix, you will find two of the three heads of the dragon. You are not alone, Daenerys Stormborn. Your dragons know, do you? The world will sing the song of ice and fire once the three headed dragon meets when winter comes. Beware Daenerys of the House Targaryen, winter is coming and the dead will come with it. The one born under a bleeding star, the one that was born amidst smoke and salt and the one that has awakened dragons from stone. _The dragon is neither male nor female."_

Daenerys opens her eyes, sitting up with a loud gasp and she immediately clutches her throat, looking around in search for Quaithe but finds herself lying under the burning sun of Meereen, atop of a cliff with her dragons at her side. Her brows furrow at the strange dream she had, her gentle heart was racing and she looked to her right to find Ser Jorah and Missandei staring down at her, sharing looks of concern. Daenerys felt a wetness on her faces and reaches up to touch it and when she takes her hand away from her face, it reveals blood was weeping from her nose.

"Ser Jorah?" _The bear._

"You would not wake, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah said as he knelt beside her and dabbed at her face with a cloth.

"I had the strangest of dreams," She murmured as she sat further up. "I dreamt of phoenixes. I have never heard of such a creature, the bird burst into flames before my very eyes."

" _Phoenixes_?"Missandei asked, surprise in her features and she watched as the golden eyed girl raised her brows. "You dreamt of them? You cannot possibly have."

"How?" Daenerys questioned. "Are you familiar with phoenixes?"

"Long gone," The girl said, shaking her head and she saw a look of sadness on the girl's face. "The last of the phoenixes died out over a thousand years ago."

"Can you tell me more of them, Missandei?" She inquired, gesturing to the nearby rock for the girl to sit on. "Sit. I wish to here."

At times with the vast amount of knowledge that the girl has, she forgets that the golden eyed girl is only ten and one name days old. She watches as purple dressed girl approaches her, lifting up the skirts of her dress to reveal brown sandals as she makes her way towards her and sits on her knees at her side. Daenerys gives Ser Jorah a pointed look, causing him to nod and with a sigh, he stands once more and turns, walking away from them as she wished to be alone with the girl to hear her story.

"The phoenixes were not given that name until the Common Tongue was introduced to Meereen. The ancient people of Meereen hailed the bird as nēdenka dāez run," Missandei tells her. "The fierce, free thing was what they called it until they came to discover that the feathers of the bird could erupt into the flames and the bird could be reborn from fire. The phoenixes were believed to have been a raqiros hen vēzos, a friend of the sun. It is said on dark nights only the wandering or lonely people can hear the song of the phoenix. It was said to be a sad one but the end of such beautiful creatures prove that we as a race, are cruel. The founders of Meereen had hunted the phoenixes down to obtain their feathers, they believed that they could become immortal themselves should they drink the blood of a phoenix. The blood of a phoenix is poisonous while their tears...the tears they shed are said to bring anyone back from death. A rebirth."

"Was there any phoenixes in Westeros?" Daenerys asked slowly, finding herself entranced by the story.

"Yes. A phoenix was traded by Meereen to Westeros. I do not know where the phoenix was traded to some say the North of Westeros while others claim the South but the Westerosi did not take well to the bird that could be born again and could not be burned," Missandei said with a shake of her head. "The Westerosi shunned the phoenix bird. They claimed that the bird was an omen, the bird was fire made flesh."

"Ser Jorah?" She called, turning to face the man. "Do any houses from Westeros possess the phoenix as a sigil?"

"No, Khaleesi," He replied. "The phoenix was terrible, terrible and red."

* * *

 _The Wall_

Jon Snow

Jon stilled, hearing sobbing coming from his little sister's chambers. _I must be dreaming,_ he thought to himself with furrowed brows. _I am back at Winterfell._ He turned and approached it, holding his breath as he listened to the sobs that no one else seemed to hear. The guards and maids that passed did not seem to hear it as they walked straight passed the door, without sparing a glance to it. Jon's hand wavered at the handle of the door before he slowly turned the handle and opened the door, letting out a small relieved sigh to see that it was unlocked. He opened the door and found his sister Lysara, staring into the fire with her knees drawn up to her chest and tears sliding down her face. He was reliving a memory of his time at Winterfell. _I remember this...she was ten name days old..._

"Lysara..." He began, kneeling beside her as he inspected her face and tucked a strand of wild, curly dark hair behind her ear. "What is it?"

"They don't believe me!" She snarled softly, wiping the tears away fiercely as she shrugged herself out of his grip and a sob escaped her red lips causing him to look on in pain. "I told them what I say...but Theon called me a liar! They were _laughing_ at me! The children were throwing rocks at me and calling me a witch! I hate them, I hate them all...even Ser Rodrik was laughing at me because of that kraken...it was embarrassing! I can see things, I really can! My mother said I was a terrible, red girl for saying such things about Robb...but I did, I really saw him walking with a wolf's head. I dreamt of it."

"You aren't a liar. You are the most honest person I know," Jon told her, trying to hold back the anger he felt for Theon as he made his sister cry and had humiliated her. He knew what it was like to be in her situation as Theon had too much to say for himself and most of the time his insults and cruel jests were directed at him for being a bastard. Jon would not let Lysara become a target for Theon's amusement. "I believe you. You aren't horrible or red...you are beautiful."

"No, I'm not. Theon said I was ugly and stupid. Sansa, Jeyne and Beth were laughing at me because I tripped into the mud when I was running away," Lysara said, letting out a mournful sound that made him wince. He has never heard a child around Lysara's age make such an unearthly sound. "Why are you here, Jon? My problems are stupid compared to the treatment you have been given...I need to stop being such a pathetic girl!"

"You shouldn't listen to the likes of Theon Greyjoy. I think you are beautiful and I have never lied to you, have I?" Jon asked, crouching closer to her. "I know what I saw that day and if you say fire saved you, then it did. If Theon is calling you that, he is the stupid one. He is very ugly and smells of fish, so why would you listen to him? You have never listened to him or anyone else before, what made you start listening to such words now? What happened to the Sara that would climb the walls of Winterfell despite the screams of Lady Stark or would wander into the woods despite Lord Stark's warnings?"

Jon watched her in silence as she stifled her sobs, it hurt to know that his half siblings tended to favour him above Lysara. He looked at his little sister and saw himself. He saw the same dark, curly hair. The same solemn grey eyes and wished that he could take her away from Winterfell and protect her from the cruel taunts and jests from the other children. Their father's ward, Theon was full of himself, thinking that he was better than himself and his sister but the kraken wasn't. He never would be. Theon and Lady Catelyn were the only people in Winterfell who openly despised him and mocked him. If he had to be around his sister all day and night to prevent them from taunting her, he would. It did not matter if they hurt him, they could do so but the moment they hurt her...

"I am not crying over _them_. I would not waste my tears on that kraken, I would fillet him first before he would break my heart," She huffs, causing him to let out a small laugh. "It's just...I hate the way they treat you, you have a far better purpose than the likes of Theon Greyjoy will ever have and I hate that you are being treated like that. I hate him, I really do...I hate mother too...I hate her for agreeing with him, none of them know what you are worth!"

"I'm just a bastard," Jon says solemnly. "I don't have a purpose."

"You do!" Lysara exclaims, grasping onto his shoulders and the grey eyes that mirror his own peer at him with a manic stare. "R'hllor has a purpose for _everything_. From a little pebble to a grain of salt. All things have a purpose, even you. You just have not discovered your purpose yet and once you do, they will cower before you. I know they will. I have seen it."

"How about we tend to your knees?" Jon offers weakly, helping her stand when he notices blood running down her legs and takes in her torn and mud covered skirt. "We don't want you getting an infection, do we?"

" _Jon."_ The voice stirred him as the memory faded to darkness. " _Jon!"_

Jon's eyes opened and he was met with the stone ceiling of his chambers, he let out a soft groan from pain and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, trying to rid the sleep from them. He looked blearily at the edge of his bed and saw an anxious Ed staring at him. _Dark wings, dark words,_ Jon thought and the saying was true. He recalled Lady Catelyn saying it many a time. The first crow to wake him was Sam to inform him of the deaths of his father, Bran and Rickon and that his sisters, Lysara and Arya were missing. The second crow to wake him was Pypar and that is when he came to find out Robb and Lady Catelyn had been slaughtered at the Red Wedding. He had no one left now. All he had was the cold and the hope that his sisters would arrive at the Wall.

"W-What?" Jon asked hoarsely, letting the furs slide from his body. "What's wrong?"

"We caught a Wildling," Ed informed. "He asked for you. I think there is something you need to see."

Jon sat up, swinging his legs around the bed and stood up, making his way towards where he kept his clothes and shrugged on a simple tunic which he laced up. Ed briskly left his cold chambers to let him get ready but all he could think of was why a Wildling would ask for him. It made him think of Ygritte. He continued to dress in his black and dark brown garb before throwing his black as night cloak around his shoulders. He turned to face Ghost, who's red eyes were peering at him curiously. His direwolf stood up and they left their chambers, looking down to the yard to see a Wildling brought to his knees with a sword at his back but he seemed to be smirking and smugly looking at him.

"What does he want?" Jon asked as approached Ed.

"Don't know," The man shrugged. "He won't tell us anything. All he wants is you."

"Ah, Lord Crow!" The Wildling man grunted, looking up at him and gave him a bloody smile.

"Why haven't you killed him?" Jon questioned, ignoring the man as he turned to face Ed in confusion.

"You don't want to kill me," The man said. "You won't _ever_ get your little sister back if you kill me. I'm your best chance."

Jon stiffened, his eyes slowly landing on the man as he stared at him with cold eyes. The man looked pleased with himself as he sat up straighter from his kneeling position and tugged slightly at the ropes that kept his wrists together. _How could one of my sister's be beyond the Wall? Arya is somewhere in the East of Westeros, no doubt. Lysara is somewhere North and Sansa has fled from King's Landing._ Jon's brows furrowed but Ghost approached the man with a snarl, circling him and gnashing his teeth every so often. He had never seen Ghost act so vicious before, the last time Ghost acted like this was when a wight was nearby. He called for red eyed direwolf and turned his attention back to the man.

"H-How do I know that you have her?" Jon demanded.

The man raised his hands with a raised brow causing Jon to reach for his dagger and cut the rope, releasing him. The Wildling man rubbed his wrists before reaching into his pocket and pulled out a piece of red fabric, the familiar crimson made his eyes widen and he felt his own lips purse in a snarl but the moment the man blonde haired man throws the piece of fabric at his feet, his white direwolf lungs for him and latches onto his shoulder, causing the man to cry out. Jon stared at the man, feeling nothing as the man fell back, clutching at his wound and Ghost turned around to the fabric, whining pitifully and nudged it softly, his red eyes flickering to meet his own. _We have to find her,_ his direwolf seemed to say to him. He knelt beside Ghost and stroked his bloody face before picking up the red fabric and bringing the silken fabric to his face, he inhales deeply and before he could say anything, Ghost nipped his hands before taking the fabric in his own mouth.

" _I know,_ " Jon sighs, scratching Ghost behind the ear. "I know."

* * *

 _Winterfell_

Young Griff

"Idiot boy!" Jon swore at him. "What is your plan? How do you intend to face him?"

"I already told you. He has his hounds and I have fire. I will set him and his twenty good men alight. I will end his life and kill every last Bolton in Winterfell. I will retake Winterfell and crush House Bolton to the ground once I have done so and afterwards," Aegon said coldly as he sheathes his sword into his leather belt and turns to face Ser Jon. "I will travel North and I will find my bride and then I will marry her, making her my Queen and I will gain the entirety of the North and the Riverlands. If they refuse...I will set them afire. That is my plan...You don't approve of it, do you?"

"I don't think I have every told you about your grandfather, have I?" Ser Jon asked him, causing his brows to furrow as he takes a seat. "I have told you plenty about your father but never of your grandfather."

"The Mad King? What of him?" Young Griff scoffed, pouring himself a goblet of wine. "He is nothing but a _stain_ on our history. Aerys Targaryen means nothing to me."

"I served the Mad King and your father, Prince Rhaegar for all my life," Jon Connington tells him. "You do not know...You do not know what he was like..."

"Tell me," Aegon encouraged, raising his goblet to his lips and took a sip before placing it back down on the small table. "I want to know."

"The words that have passed your lips were not your own, those words were your grandfather's and that frightens me. Your grandfather, Aerys Targaryen was given the name the Mad King by his people. He did not need enemies to be given that title. Even the kindest of hearts called him the Mad King. He was not known as King Aerys. He no longer was the King of Westeros the moment he started to turn on the people he ruled. At first, he was burning villages of the small folk, then he started to burn castles and then...then he started to burn men alive. The man was mad. He burned men and women and children alike with wildfire and he _laughed_ as they screamed while they burned to death," Ser Jon explained causing his calm demeanour to turn into one of horror as he stared on at Ser Jon in disbelief. "The Mad King relished in the screams. The girl is from the same blood of Rickard and Brandon Stark. He burned Rickard alive and made Brandon watch...that is not only what he did...he gave Brandon false hope...the deadliest of poisons. His decent into madness killed every single Targaryen except three. You, Viserys and Daenerys."

"I am not him..." Aegon says, his voice wavering as he looks up to him. "I'm not...If...If I ever ended up like that...I want you to kill me...I order you to kill me...I have seen a Westeros, a Westeros that is not ruled by lions or stags. I see a Westeros that is ruled fairly and justly. I can promise that I will never act so foolishly like my father nor will I act so cruelly like my grandfather did. I will act as a King. As a ruler. I can promise, Ser Jon Connington that when I become King of Westeros and take my place on the Iron Throne...I will do everything that I can to prevent anything like that from happening. I will end all the evil in the world."

"I will, Your Grace," The man responded. "You are not like your grandfather nor are you like your father. I thank the Gods each day that you are nothing like them. That was justice to the Mad King..."

"I will answer injustice with justice," Young Griff said. "I intend to kill Ramsay Bolton...I will answer his unjust crimes with a just sentence. I make the orders, therefore I must act them out."

"Wise words," Jon retorted but the smile fell from his face. "If he is wise like you are, he will wait us out and hide in Winterfell. I doubt he will face us until we go knocking on his doors."

"I doubt it..." He said, his face screwing up as he takes another sip of wine. "I have a few more hours to plan until then I will drink and be merry, for these moments might be my last. I suggest you do the same, Ser Jon. I know of men like him, they are all too familiar...we have met people like him before...if the North think him a coward, the North will stop fearing him and once they do, that is when he truly will be weak and he cannot have that. The likes of Ramsay Bolton _feed_ on fear. He will not wait us out. Do you honestly think that bastard will play fair?"

"No," Ser Connington said. "Let us see what his words are worth."

"Ramsay Bolton will not fall for any trap we may attempt to set," Aegon replied. "He is a trap in itself...He too confident...too smug and that will be his downfall."

"As it will be your downfall," The ageing man retorts. "You have too sharp a tongue and too quick a temper. You are matched."

"We will come to face death," Young Griff said fiercely. "Now let us see if we can face it."

A horn sounded causing him to rise to his feet, he shared a look with Ser Connington before he placed his goblet down on the wooden table and makes his way abruptly out of the tent along with Ser Jon. At first, he thought that Ramsay Bolton had arrived a few hours earlier in an attempt to catch him by surprise but his brows furrowed when he caught sight of a fiery red sigil with a brown hairy beast on it. Aegon had never seen such a sigil before and marched towards the armoured men, keeping his hand tightly on his sword.

"Who is that, Ser Jon?" Aegon demanded, his eyes growing cold as he stares at a man that pushes passed his soldiers.

" _House Umber."_

* * *

Author's Note: Hey guys, I hope you liked this chapter! This chapter was a particular favourite of mine to write and I hope these pov's surprised you. There is a lot of clues and foreshadowing in this chapter about things to come. Let me known what you think. I would like to first off thank everyone who has reviewed and read this story and I would also like to thank everyone who has made this story one of their favourites and have also followed this story. It means a lot to me and the next update should be up soon if you have any questions feel free to ask and I will happily answer them!

Reviews-

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you, I hope you like this chapter and her and Jon will reunite soon!

Saint River: I hope you like this chapter! Yes, I wanted to include that all her life she has endured a lot and it has given her a sense of triumph as they made her seem insane. There was a small snippet of what Aegon intends to do but until he and Ramsay fight his true intention won't be revealed until then. I'm sorry, I made a small typo that I must have missed. I can say for definite that Aegon has ten thousand men, thanks for pointing that at out. I did alter the Wildling plan canonically and it will be explained a bit further in the next chapter when it is Lysara's pov once more. I might in the near future include that!

jman007: Thank you!

Guest: In this chapter, I gave a little more of an insight through Jon about what Lysara has gone through and although she was safe at Winterfell, she has endured a lot of mocking and cruel taunts. In a way, she was shunned by many people but because of her name and who she was, she wasn't cast out completely but had it been a different house and had she had a different family name, it would be safe to say that they would have exiled her or had her killed.

RHatch89: Thank you!

Fan of This: Yep, Aegon vs Ramsay is coming up in the next chapter and you will really see if he has a bite to his bark. I hope you liked this chapter and the pov's that came with it!

Guest: Nope, he get's zilch. I hope you like chapter twenty two!

Arianna Le Fay: Hopefully you like chapter twenty two! A lot of reunions will happen soon and I can say that a lot of secrets will come to light as well. Unfortunately, Aegon won't be fighting Ramsay until the next chapter.

celticank: Thank you and I hope you like this chapter!

aishiteru naru: Thank you!

Guest 2: I have included Daenerys, Jon and Aegon in this chapter because I kind of wanted a three headed dragon chapter so I hope you like it!


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

_The High Road_

Arya Stark

 _Where do I go now?_

Arya rests next to the fire, clutching the coin tightly in her hand as she stares at the dying fire, watching the flames dance their last dance and listens to the Hound snore and snort loudly next to her while he slept, she wrinkled her nose slightly in disgust when she hears him snort before he continues to snore. She repeats the question like a mantra as if she was expecting the flames to answer but they never do. Father was gone. Mother and Robb were gone. Bran and Rickon were gone. _I'm all alone,_ Arya thinks to herself and glares at the flickering fire that crackles softly in the silent night. _Just like them._ All she could think of was her mother, her father and her brothers. All she could think on was how they died.

Arya feels like screaming but she knows that no one will hear her screams. That no one will care for her screams. Father, Mother, Robb, Bran and Rickon were all dead. Sansa was a little bird with clipped wings and was trapped in a cage. Her sister could not fly away and could only sit on her perch, letting all the Lords and Ladies leer at her from outside her cage. Her sister was useless but she was useless too. Arya could not save them nor could Sansa.

The wolf dreams that she had each night was what she longed for, in her wolf dreams, she did not feel anything but the dirt between her paws and the rain on her pelt, giving chase to her pray with a pack of wolves at her heels. Arya felt no anger, no sadness nor jealousy. All she felt was freedom. Her father was wrong, the lone wolf does survive and has survived longer than the pack _ever_ has, the pack is long gone, scattered across the Seven Kingdoms. Her sisters were lone she wolves like she was and they still lived. _I have lasted longer than you,_ she thinks about her father. Arya fights to be brave each day that passes, to be a fierce wolf, like her own direwolf, Nymeria but at times when then the night was silent and cruel, she felt like a little girl again. Arya wraps her cloak that was draped around her, burying herself into the furs as she curls up into a ball on the cold ground.

 _Where do I go now? What do I do?_

Arya longs for home, she _longs_ to be back at Winterfell, she longs for the snowfall during summer and for the howling of direwolves. Yet she knows that will never come to happen. Her home was nothing but snow and stone by now, ruled by Ramsay Bolton. Arya lived a life on the run, sleeping on the hard ground and suffered through cold nights with an aching heart and a vengeance on her mind.

 _The dragons will be awakened from their long sleep as will the dead,_ her red sister told her. _The summer armies do not stand against the winter that will come to Westeros. A night of terrors will soon be upon us. It will be a song of ice and fire._ The words by her sister made her long for her even more. She does not long for her father nor her mother, nor her brothers...she longs for her sisters, even Sansa.

Arya would kiss Sansa on the cheek and would ask for her forgiveness, she would try and act like a proper Lady, even if for a moment, she would like that. For a moment she had forgotten where she was and where she was going and began to dream of when she was little, when she shared her bedchambers with her sisters and would fool those who came to check on them by going under their furs, keeping their breathing steady and would have their eyes lightly closed.

It became a game to them every night, they would tell each other stories in hushed whispers but when they heard footsteps grow closer to their chambers, they would dive into their beds and pretend to sleep. After Lysara went missing, they spent the night huddled in her bed and waited for her to come home and she did but everything _changed._ Lysara had changed. Sansa had changed. She had changed. The three of them changed. No longer were they the she wolf pack of Winterfell that would playfully fight in the summer snow. And she missed it. Arya missed it more than anything in the world and she could not have it back.

Arya wants Lysara.

Arya wants her older sister, she wants Lysara to come and tell her scary stories that their mother forbid her older sister from telling and would never let her hear. Arya wants Lysara to come and brush her hair like she used to, she was always gentle with the brush unlike the firm hand of her mother or the horrible hand of her Septa. She wants to hide in Lysara's chambers like she used to and hide away from Septa Mordane and most of Winterfell, who would never step foot inside her sister's chambers. Arya wanted to sleep next to Lysara during thunderstorms, knowing that her sister would remain silent to everyone else at the fact she was scared. Arya wants Lysara to call her, her wild wolf and give her one of the rare and gentle smiles she possesses.

Arya wants Jon.

She wanted them when their father was beheaded, she wanted them when she heard what happened to their little brothers, she wanted them when she saw what the Frey's had done to Robb and what the Frey's had done to her mother. Arya wants them at night when she is lonely and hurt. Like now. Lysara and Jon always brought her comfort. Their shared grey eyes that mirrored her own always assured her that she was safe. Arya would let her brother and sister slaughter their enemies, she wanted her sister to make the world burn and call it rain and she wanted her brother to run their enemies through with his sword while she and Sansa would watch in satisfaction. Arya confided in the Hound about her desires but all he did was laugh and mock her.

 _They aren't coming for you, girl,_ the Hound had told her. _Your red sister is missing and your bastard brother is a brother of the Night's Watch._

Arya felt stupid after that and knew bitterly, that after all this time, her sister and brother would never find her. Her hatred for Theon Greyjoy consumes her as she watches the fire grow dim, wishing her sister would reignite the flames to warm her. Arya wished Robb knew better than to trust a Greyjoy, she wished that Theon hadn't betrayed Robb but at least she hoped he was suffering. At times, Arya prayed for his suffering and for what he did to her brothers and her sister. For what he had done to Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin. For what he had done to Winterfell.

" _Valar Morghulis,"_ Arya murmurs. _For the night is dark and full of terrors,_ she adds the words of her sister silently.

Arya wishes for a lot of things but none more so than her family, she wishes that her sisters were at the Eyrie, waiting for her but she knew that would never happen. Instead, she clutches the blood stained coin in her hand and concentrates on the hatred she has for her enemies, the hatred for them was the only thing that kept her going when her belly was empty and the sore soles of her feet were blistered and bleeding. It was the only thing that kept her breathing, that kept her going so with that she holds the coin given to her by Jaqen H'ghar, to her face and stares at intently, stroking the detail of the coin stained with blood with her thumb as she whispers her prayer to Death once more. The list had grown shorter and with Joffrey dead, it was one less person for her to hate.

 _Cersei Lannister. Tywin Lannister. Amory Lorch. Walder Frey. Meryn Trant. Melisandre. Beric Dondarrion. Thoros of Myr. Ilyn Payne. The Mountain._

* * *

 _The Land Beyond The Wall_

Lysara Stark

The sky was dark and murky as she made her way through the cold, snow ridden woods with the Free Folk, she clutched the large and heavy fur cloak that weighed heavily against her body as she trailed behind them and fought against another strong bout of wind. The day had turned to night and she found herself entranced by the howling she heard as it carried with the wind. No longer did she have the dress of crimson she so adored, her dress had long since been taken by the fire and no longer was she hailed the wearer of red. _The unburnt,_ some of the Free Folk hailed her. She paid the Free Folk little to no mind as she found herself lost in the lonely and eerily beautiful woods, she had since lost herself in her own world yet in these dead woods with leafless, dark and snow covered trees, she has never felt more at home than she has.

The speckles of white that were dancing in the sky above her started to land on her and soon enough a flake or two of snow caught her cracked lips, letting her taste winter. It was a taste that brought her great sorrow yet comfort. It was the taste of Winterfell. It was the taste of her home and how Lysara _longed_ for it. Lysara prayed to her Lord of Light each night, staring into the flames she was knelt by and prayed that he would let her return home back to her beautiful Winterfell.

She did not want to witness _their_ great victory nor the great defeat during the black battle at the Wall nor did she want to witness such bloodshed. The screams echoed hauntingly, chilling her as she stared at the Free Folk ahead of her. Her eyes lingered on the heavily pregnant Dalla who was riding on horseback, groaning every so often in pain as she clutched her swollen stomach. She and the Queen beyond the Wall would be taken to the nearby caves for safekeeping until Mance Rayder retrieved them.

Lysara was not a woman with many desires but a desire she did have was to thread her fingers through Rickon's soft unruly locks and embrace Bran while she told them tales and sang them songs of old about winter and the First Men. _My little sisters,_ she thinks to herself as she stares intently ahead of her and eyes the burning torches that some were carrying. _I need to find them too._ Lysara catches the fiery hair of Daramyr and thinks on her own auburn haired sister. In truth, she was reminded of her family wherever she went and the woods was where she was reminded of them the most.

The wind reminded her of her fierce mother and her boisterous younger sister, Arya. The old and wise trees reminded her of father and her brother, Brandon. The delicate snowflakes reminded her of Sansa and the stars that danced in the sky reminded her of Rickon. The people that surrounded her reminded her mostly of Robb and Jon. The people reminded her of honourable Robb and of her dutiful Jon. Yet all she could think of as she watched the snowflakes dance within the wind was her little sisters. _They are alone now,_ she thought solemnly. _Just like I am._

As of now, all she wanted was Winterfell. All around her was darkness and winter, death was drawing near and she could smell its breath. _Is my duty to R'hllor first or is it to Winterfell?_ Lysara thought, her brows furrowing but she let out a small gasp from fright as she slipped slightly on a rock and from then on, became more mindful of each stone she stepped on as she looked down and noticed a thin layer of ice, that was gleaming like a dagger underneath the light of the moon. She pulled the fur cloak closer to her body, wrapping her arms around herself as she trekked through the woods and the train of the fur cloak left a trail through the snow. The trek was laborious and she did not know how much she could take.

Lysara had wanted to hate the Wildlings, she wanted to loathe and despise them with her very being...but she could not she had slowly fallen for them and the beauty beyond the Wall. Lysara did not realise what she had done before it was too late and she cursed her heart for it. All the cruel stories Old Nan had told her about the Free Folk were wrong.

If someone were to ask her long ago should the Wildlings be let beyond the Wall, she would not care anything about it but after seeing them for who and what they were, she could not let that happen to them. At first, they did not like her nor was she particularly found of them but after eating and drinking with them, dancing and sharing a tent with some of the women who offered her clothing when she had none, if they stay beyond the Wall, they will _die._ It was the chilling truth, she had dreamt it a thousand times over.

 _You must remember your duty,_ Robb murmured. _Your duty is to the North._

 _My brother named me the ruling Lady of Winterfell,_ Lysara thinks to herself. _And the Free Folk are from the North like I am._

The crows no longer have a choice in the matter, they can either add the Free Folk to the army of the Other or they can let the Free Folk beyond the Wall to aid her and the realm of men in the fight against the dead and the Long Night. The mere feuds of Westeros never caught her interest, it was something worth acknowledging but the wars they were waging now meant nothing to her. Those wars are false.

The _true_ war was between life and death, between the light and the darkness. Lysara did not care for a throne made from swords nor who should run the Seven Kingdoms. It would matter little when winter truly comes to Westeros and when it does, there will be nowhere left to run or hide. The likes of Westerosi politics and the war over the Iron Throne mattered nothing to dead men.

The wind was howling fiercely, whipping her braided hair wildly as she fought against the wind. _The wind sounds like a wolf,_ Lysara thinks to herself. _A ghost wolf._ The wind howled once more only this time, it was not the wind. Lysara licked her cracked red lips, noticing that her lip had split from the cold air and she found her mouth going dry. She forced herself to straighten up, staring ahead at a nearby tree and her brows furrowed as she listened to the sound of something behind her that was racing for her, a twig snapped behind her causing her to stiffen and she braced herself, turning around quickly as her heart thundered in her chest, beating against her as her being called for her to flee.

A large shadow was seen moving towards her and from the trees, emerged a huge wolf that startled many of the Free Folk. _A direwolf._ Her brows furrowed when she took in the large wolf, the fur of the wolf was white as the snow beneath her and the direwolf's eyes were crimson like the leaves on a Weirwood tree. The wolf prowled towards her and began to circle her, nudging himself into her knees every so often as he grumbles softly. His lips purse into a snarl, showing two sharp rows of teeth as he eyes the men and women with weapons drawn to them but she pays them no mind as she lets out a short, breathless laugh as she begins to circle him as well before she loses all the strength she possessed and her knees buckled together, causing her to stumble.

" _Ghost_ ," Lysara murmured hoarsely and fell to her knees, collapsing into the bundle of furs that she was wearing as the direwolf nears her. "You found me. You've grown so much..."

Lysara let her own head rest against his as she cups his muzzle and let her face rest against him as he nuzzled her neck and gave a few tender licks to her cheek, she could hear someone move towards her but she paid little to no mind to them as she held Ghost to her. _If Ghost is here,_ she thought to herself and looked up, staring into the woods. _Jon is not far behind._ Her hopes turned to ash when she feels someone grasp her upper arm and pulls her to her feet, the direwolf growls in protest but she hushes him softly and pulls herself from the grip on her arm and turns to face Daramyr who was holding the reins to a horse.

"We have to leave," Daramyr informs her. "The crows know that we are arriving. I promised Mance that I would keep you and his wife safe. I wouldn't fancy you dying tonight, fire bird."

It was strange, no one other than Jory had teased or made lustful remarks to her. The way he mocks the customs that she has grown up with and the way he mocks her God or as Daramyr calls him _Rollo,_ it took all her will not to stab him while he slept and at times, he would bring her gifts. It was usually just pelts or weapons that she had no clue how to use but they were gifts nonetheless and she has come to think that he was courting her in the way folk beyond the Wall must do. Lysara looks down to Ghost who remains still but was not silent, he was still huffing and snarling low beneath his breath though he had not attacked any of the Free Folk that came near her.

"I think I deserve a kiss," The man says slyly, snapping her out of her thoughts as he slides his hand into her own and pulls her closer to the horse. His eyes were dancing with mischief and he tilted his neck, showing his cheek to her but behind the humour in his eyes, she could see a noticeable _fear_. He was terrified but through his terror, he still managed to bring a small but unimpressed smile to her face. "I like getting kisses for good luck."

"I thought I was an omen?" Lysara retorts with an arched brow.

"Aye, I did say that, didn't I? I meant what I said so I'm taking nothing back..." Daramyr tells her, a small smirk appearing on his face. "You are an omen, that is true...but a good one I think."

* * *

 _The Eyrie_

Sansa Stark

"A lemon cake, my Lady?" A handmaiden asked, holding a small cake to her but Sansa dismissed her and continued to write her letter.

"No," Sansa said impassively, unable to look the handmaiden in the eye. "You may take your leave."

"My Lady-"

" _Go_ ," Sansa interrupted, her voice a hushed whisper as she stared at the ink that slowly dripped from her quill onto the table.

The handmaiden fell silent and bowed her head, placing the lemon cake back on the tray and placed the silver tray on a nearby table that was next to her bed before the young brown haired woman hastily left the darkened room. Sansa frowned as she stared at the letter underneath the candle light, she sucked in a breath and let a small sigh escape passed her lips, continuing where she had left off. Sansa looked at the burning candle, the fire dancing in her blue eyes and she felt content if that was possible. The fire was all she had at that moment, the fire and an old dog.

Sansa was content at the fact she was alone and the only noise was a snoring dog and the scratching of the quill on parchment. All she could disturbingly think of was how the untrustworthy Lord Baelish or as he wanted her to call him, _Petyr_ shoved her aunt Lysa from the moon door. Her auburn hair was curling against her face as she stared down at the plea she was in the middle of writing with tears in her eyes.

 _Jon,_

 _I once loved Joffrey with all my beating heart; I admired and trusted his mother, the Queen Cersei. My love and trust was repaid with my father's head and my mother_ _  
_ _and brother's deaths. I have treated you so horribly. I was a stupid little girl who never learned but I promise if you find her, I will never make that same mistake again._ _  
_ _Please, Jon. I am alone as is Lysara and Arya, I want us to go home. You are all I have left. You are the last brother I have. I only have you and my sisters. You have_ _  
_ _changed from a boy to a crow but I have changed too; from porcelain to ivory and then to steel. I know that Lysara is somewhere in the North, Lord Baelish told me and_ _  
_ _I now know that Arya is still alive. I have sent letters to all the other Northern Lords that are still loyal to House Stark but it is not enough, it will never be enough. I know_ _  
_ _Lysara and I know that she will travel to the Wall. I need you to help me find them._ _  
_ _Sansa._

Sansa shakily placed the quill back in the ink pot and looked at her cursive and delicate hand before she slumped in her hard, wooden chair. It may have been elegant in the Eyrie but there was no softness to it, it was meant to be light yet here she was, encased and hidden in the darkness, in the shadows that were created by the light. Sansa may be safe here but she did not feel it home nor did she know how long she would be safe in the Eyrie with the likes of Petyr Baelish at her side.

The Eyrie was not Winterfell. It was not her home and how she longed for her home and for her sisters and the last brother that remained to her. In her letter, she meant every word to Jon but she had no idea of when nor where she could send it. It was a dangerous move she was making at this moment, conspiring against Lord Baelish's wishes but it did not matter to her, Lysara and Arya were her sisters. _They were both missing._ Her little sister Arya with her needle and fierceness. Her older sister Lysara with her fire and knowledge.

Sansa knew if she was going to play the game, she needed to know what her supposed allies wanted from her first before she knew what her enemies desired and in doing so she found that evening, a letter addressed to Lord Baelish and hid it on her body. The ageing and blind dog was startled, letting out a quiet and pained noise and she looked down at the dog who was pawing at the purple skirts of her dress. The dog was no direwolf and the dog was no Lady but he would do. The letter had come to shock her when she discovered the contents of the letter and it seemed the information she now possessed could end her life. The letter told her of how a boy with hair of silver and purple of eye was attempting to take Winterfell from Ramsay Bolton.

 _Aegon Targaryen,_ she thought as she slowly picked up the folded letter and reread it. _He intends to find my sister too._ The letter said that Aegon intends to take the North and in doing so, will marry the heir to the North, Lysara Stark. All she could hold for Littlefinger was suspicion as she did not know who had wrote him the letter but it also explained how tension was growing between House Martell, Lannister and Tyrell due to his arrival in Westeros.

 _My sister is the key to the North,_ she thought. _That is why all the Northern houses are after her. I doubt they do it for the love they held for my father or my brother._ She looked down to the frightful dog who was letting out a small whines, the dog looked as if the Stranger had appeared to take his very soul, so she tried to calm him by gently stroking his ear but her brows furrowed when she noticed a dangling gold chain in his mouth and leant down, taking it slowly from his mouth and she recoiled at the wet touch.

"What is this?" Sansa asked the dog, placing the letter down next to her own. She handed the old dog a lemon cake to devour before she held the gold locket nearer her face to inspect. _Robin Arryn,_ the engraving on the locket read causing her brows to furrow deeply at this. "This is Robin's...Why do you have this? Where did you find this?"

The dreadful and sickly boy must have been in her room earlier, she stared at the locket intently and wondered why he would have such a feminine locket until she opened it and that is when she began to cry softly, a river of tears falling from her eyes. _Lysara._ It was her sister's portrait. Sansa has come to loathe being near Sweet Robin as all he talked about was how her sister was kinder and how she would never have hit him like she did.

She knew that her sister wrote letters to their lonely cousin in the Vale and she wondered if Robin has done this to hurt her. Her sister was about ten and eleven in the portrait and she thought of Arya. _They share the same wild hair,_ she thought to herself. _And the same grey eyes except Arya's are fierce while Lysara's are sad. Our sister always did have such sad eyes._ Sansa let her eyes flutter close and she pressed the locket to her lips, placing gentle kisses on it as she wept.

 _You are my daughter as is Arya, as is Lysara,_ Her father told her. _You are sisters. Your blood is their blood. You are she wolves of Winterfell. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives._

 _You will be Alayne Stone,_ Petyr informed her. _You will be my bastard._

" _No,_ " Sansa bit stubbornly as she dug her heels into the stone floor and stared ahead at the candle light as she placed the locket on the table next to the letter for her brother. "I am not Alayne Stone. I will never be Alayne Stone. I am not the bastard daughter of Petyr Baelish nor will I ever be. I am not a caged bird. I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell. I am the daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. And I am free. I am a she wolf of Winterfell and I will find my sisters and I will go _home_."

Sansa slowly began to rise from her chair and walked towards the doors to the balcony of her chambers, gently pushing them open and was greeted with a soft wind that blew her hair softly in the wind and flakes of snow caressed her pale face. All the stars danced that night with the little flakes of snow as she looked out at the snowy Vale, she sighed and thought of her brother that bears the same name. _Jon Snow._ All she could think of was her brother and her sisters. _I am hunted, just like Lysara. I am hidden, just like Arya. I am a bastard, just like Jon._

And she would give anything to see their faces and hear their voices once more.

* * *

Author's Note: Hey, I hope you like this chapter dedicated to the three sisters! The next chapter will be up soon and will have two major things, the Battle of Castle Black and Aegon vs Ramsay. I would like to thank all of you for taking the time to read this story, for making it one of your favourites and for following it. I would also like to give special thanks to everyone who has reviewed, they mean a lot to me and if you have any questions, feel free to ask.

Reviews-

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you, I hope you like this chapter!

enuji1799: There is and has been a lot of foreshadowing in this story but Lysara is a phoenix in a metaphorical sense but it was due to her powers that Rickon was brought back.

Ying and Yang-Balance: Thank you! Lysara is about seventeen now.

celticank: Thank you, I can say that Aegon will come to find out about Jon but I won't mention how he finds out about it.

alex love panteli: Thanks!

RHatch89: Thank you, I'm glad you liked it!

Roose's Leech: A lot of this story will have elements from the books and the show, I wanted to stick with Missandei's age and I did want to add more involvement with Quaithe in Daenerys. I write her pov based on the part where she dreams of Quiathe in A Dance with Dragons.

Arianne Le Fay: Thank you, I hope you like chapter twenty three! The reunion between Lysara and Jon will be in the chapters to come and as for what House Umber want, I won't be mentioning anything until the next chapter!

ATP: Thank you, I'm glad you think so. In a way, all Targaryen's are near the edge of madness and Aegon will be no exception except he has the ability to control himself and I want to prove that in this story.

Guest 1: Thanks!

Saint River: I noticed that with all the mythology in ASOIAF and Game of Thrones, there was never any phoenixes so I thought I should add and make my own lore for them because they always have been a favourite of mine. There will be more lore about them to come so I can't say much about them yet without ruining it because in the few chapters after this there will be more mentioned about them. The connection to Lysara and the phoenix is more of metaphorical sense and she did bring him back through R'hllor's power and not through tears because I agree with it taking the impact away from it. I'm glad you like the three moments with Jon, Aegon and Daenerys and the twist on the prophecy. While I like writing pov's with Lysara, I also like writing about various other characters and I hope I managed to keep them in character. Ser Jorah has kept Daenerys ignorant over many things but that will change in chapters to come, unlike Ser Jon with Aegon. I haven't read the books in ages and will probably reread them at some point but there is a lot of things from the books that weren't on the show that will be interpreted into this story and there will be a lot of allegiances getting struck and promises getting made in chapter's to come.

Maester Aemon: Thank you, I have enjoyed writing this a lot. If I am on track with the story and what will go in each chapter I write, Stannis, Melisandre and Davos will be making their appearance in chapter twenty five or six.

Guest 2: I hope you like this update!

xdaniellelsetonx: Thank you!

Guest 3: Thank you!


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

_The Land Beyond The Wall_

Lysara Stark

"It's alright..." Lysara murmured, wiping the tears away from Dalla's face as she stared down at the crying woman. "It's alright..."

In truth, she did not know if anything would be alright after the battle at Castle Black. It was a beautiful lie she kept telling the woman instead of the ugly truth. The battle was raging on at Castle Black and she was left alone with pregnant and old women along with children in the woods. The children were crying, cold and afraid as were some of the women that were huddling together in the outskirts of the woods. Lysara was unsure of where Daramyr went but she was not worried about him like she was worried for Dalla. The Queen Beyond The Wall was suffering from severe pain and she tried to bring the woman what little comfort she could offer as Val, had disappeared and Mance was fighting at the Wall.

" _R'hllor,"_ Lysara begins, clutching her necklace. Her voice was quiet above the terror as she holds Dalla's hand as she moans in pain once more. "The night is dark and filled with such terror. My faith in you has never wavered, my Lord. Fill our hearts with your fire, so that we may walk in your light once more. R'hllor who gives us the gift of life, I thank you. R'hllor who gave us day and takes the darkness away, I thank you. I thank you for casting the terrors and shadows away, I pray that you will bring back the light of day once more."

"It's a beautiful prayer t-that..." The woman said hoarsely, her breathing laboured as she tries to breathe through the pain. "You reckon it'd protect my Mance and sister?"

"It will," She confirms, tucking a strand of hair behind the woman's air as she lets go of her necklace. "Your husband and sister will survive the battle against the crows."

As she stared down at the woman in concern, watching as the woman let out another soft moan from the pain, Ghost stalked towards them causing Dalla to stiffen at her side as the direwolf walked through the knee deep snow towards them. The blood red eyes of Jon's white direwolf met Dalla's panicked blue, which made Ghost still and the direwolf cocked his head to the side, sniffing deeply before he came closer towards them. Dalla's grip on her right hand tightened and she threw her arm over the swell of her belly, eyeing Ghost with wariness and fear as he huffed at them.

"It's alright," Lysara said calmly, waving Ghost over towards them. "This is Ghost. He is Jon Snow's direwolf. I have known him since he was a pup. I helped give birth to him."

"You gave birth to a direwolf?" Dalla slurred, her brows furrowing in confusion causing Lysara to let out a short laugh. "You're his mother? The stories about you Stark's giving birth to wolf pups instead of babes are true. My mother and father always told me not to talk such shite but...but I knew it. The blood of wolves runs through your veins. It is said that the first Stark was born from a wolf during a long winter. I was certain of it especially when I saw you and those crows...Benjen and Jon."

"No. I was in the woods when I came across his mother," She explained. "I helped her through the birth but she died anyway. I have known Ghost since his birth."

"He's white as winter," The woman murmurs, clutching her stomach. "Jon Snow...That crow has paid us many a visit...but how come I've never seen 'is direwolf before?"

Lysara stroked Ghost's soft and white fur with the back of her hand as his large head settled was resting across her lap, his red eyes staring at her intensely. Dalla looked to her hesitantly as she began to reach out a shaking hand towards the direwolf for him to smell. Ghost's eyes landed on the woman once more, he leans forward and sniffed her for a moment or so before he turned his attention back to her, uncaring for the woman as she began to stroke his back with the tips of her fingers.

"Y-You remind me of my mother," Dalla says, letting go of her hand and reaches up to cup her cheek. "You're warm. My mother was always so _warm_. My-"

The woman let out a loud gasp, causing her to look sharply back to the woman. The blonde haired woman had grown pale, paler than she ever has been in the short time that she has known the heavily pregnant woman. Even the blood red lips the woman possessed were pale and held little colour. A bead of sweat was present on her forehead and her hands began to grow clammy as the hand slides from her cheek as she grips her belly with both hands and throws her head back, letting out a heavy moan.

"What is it?" Lysara demanded. "What's wrong?"

"I-I don't know!" Dalla cried hoarsely. "I think somethin' is wrong with me!"

Lysara roused Ghost from her lap and hurriedly pulled back the furs that were covering Dalla, revealing that the woman was bleeding heavily between her legs. The snow and furs had turned crimson from her blood. The blonde woman lay her head back, letting out another hoarse cry as she began to pant and breath, though it seemed she was putting effort into her breathing. She watched with a wary expression as Dalla seemed to lose her vision. The woman focused on her face, blinking rapidly before she began to look around vigorously as if she was searching for her sight that did not return to her. A few woman who had heard Dalla's cries were approaching with worried expressions.

"You know I'm dying, don't you?" The woman asked weakly, letting her head rest against the furs. "I can see it in your face, fire bird."

"You are not going to die," She responds firmly. "I will not let that happen."

"If it does," Dalla insists, her voice hoarse as tears filled her eyes. "I don't want to be brought back."

"You do not have a choice-"

" _I do_ ," The blue eyed woman said fiercely. "If you can bring back the dead, I do not want to be brought back."

"You will be fine, Dalla," Lysara assures her. "You need to rest. We have been travelling for miles through the cold, darkness and snow. It will have exhausted you."

"Promise me..." The woman whispers, bringing her closer. "No matter what happens, I want my babe to survive. I don't want to be saved. If I am to die, I want my babe to live."

"I will..." She trails off but the woman grips her tighter, looking at her with a wildness.

"If the crows get him, they will kill him, fire bird. They will kill us. You and I both know this," Dalla said frantically, fear present in her eyes as she grasps at her shoulders with what little strength she had left and let her nails dig into her shoulders, her blunt nails were digging painfully into her pale skin, no doubt drawing blood but she finds herself uncaring for it as she stares down at the woman. "You have to protect them. If my babe is a boy, I want you to give him a noble name like those Lords of yours, a name fit for a Prince. Promise me, Lysara of House Stark. Promise me. Promise me, Lysara. I want you to promise me."

" _I promise_ ," Lysara swears. "I will protect him from this night and for all the nights to come."

"Thank you, Lysara... _"_ Dalla murmurs, the fear leaving her eyes as they steadily close and her grip slackening. " _Thank you..."_

The woman struggled for a moment or so, swallowing every so often before she sucked in a short and shaky breath before it looked as if she had stopped breathing. Lysara placed the back of her hand near the woman's mouth and she knew that these were the last breaths that the woman would take and if she was to save the child's life, she knew that she must act with haste. _You know what you must do,_ Ghost seemed to say to her as he stared at her and nudged her twice, rousing her to her feet, snapping her out of the trance Dalla held on her.

"Dalla!" A woman screamed, causing her to turn and face Val, who was running towards them. " _Dalla!"_

Lysara drew out a small dagger from the sleeve of her brown dress and eyed it with intent before letting her eyes trail towards Dalla. Val hurriedly approached, throwing herself to the ground next to her sister as she wept while trying to rouse her awake but to no avail, Dalla was no longer in this world. Lysara knelt once more, bringing her dagger towards Dalla but Val grasped her wrist tightly, viciously snarling at her as she stared at her wildly with tears in her eyes. Ghost growled low towards the blonde haired woman, his teeth gnashing together as his hackles rose but she hushed him.

"I need to," Lysara said, her voice barely a whisper. "I cannot save your sister but I can save her son. You have to let her go."

"That's my _sister_!" The woman wept, tears falling from her eyes as she brushed the hair away from her sister's face. "Come on, Dalla...Wake up...Wake up...You cannot leave me!"

Lysara winced at the woman's words but nevertheless she began to cut into the fabric softly, pulling it away from her skin and through the cut bits of material aside until she exposed the woman's round belly. She lay her hand against the swell, tenderly caressing the bump with her thumb before she turned to face Val and Willa, a young Wildling girl. Lysara could feel a crowd of woman and children gathering around them, some were frantically whispering amongst themselves while others were shouting and weeping.

"I need furs," Lysara said, staring down at the woman. "I need clean furs or clothing. _Anything_. As long as it is _warm_ and _clean_."

"What else?" Val demanded but Lysara's brows furrowed as she stared on at the woman in confliction. " _What else?"_

"I need you to leave," She tells her. "You will not like what I must do nor do I want you to witness it..."

"I won't leave her!" Val screeches, crying as she shouts. "You can not-"

" _Leave_ ," Lysara said coldly.

The woman was brought to her feet by several women as she kicked, screamed and cried as they took her away from her sister. Lysara stared down at Dalla, her thoughts and heart racing as she tried to think through panic. Her eyes flickered up and she vigorously looked around, noticing mother whisking her children away and averting her eyes but a few of the older woman stayed and woman unclasped her cloak and laid it beside her while another gathered snow. Lysara took the snow in her hand, thanking the old woman briefly before she cleaned her skin with the fresh snow before she held the dagger to her stomach, letting out a shuddering breath.

 _Promise me, Lysara._

" _I promise..._ " Lysara murmured before looking up to address the woman that was kneeling next to her. "Are you a healer?"

"We don't 'ave healers," The woman said, her dark brows furrowing in thought. "We need to save Mance and Dalla's heir. How do we do that?"

"I need to-" She stills, her grip tightening on the dagger. "I want you to ready the furs."

Lysara fell silent, staring at Dalla's belly. She was not sure of where exactly she could cut nor was she sure how deep to cut without harming the babe. _Guide me,_ she prayed. Lysara raised the dagger thrice and at some point she nicked the woman's skin but each time she backed away, unable to stop her hands from shaking and her hands from shaking. Lysara clenched her fists and let her eyes flutter close, willing something inside of her to emerge.

It was the same will she had that allowed her to confront Jaime Lannister despite knowing that he may have killed her, it was the same will that allowed her to kill that Wildling and the same will that allowed her and her siblings to escape from Winterfell with their lives. The same will that let her murder the Ironborn soldier. Lysara's eyes reopened and this time, she let the dagger touch Dalla's skin with a steadier hand. Another woman knelt in the snow next to her, carrying a skin of wine.

Lysara dug the dagger in slowly, her eyes focused intently on Dalla as she watched for a sign that the woman might awaken and feel it. The woman continued to bleed heavily as she turned a deathly grey. She began to cut deeper into the woman, letting the woman next to her wipe away any blood. Lysara made the wound the deep, cutting into the woman's belly with great care and firmness. The wound did not bleed as much as the bleeding between the woman's legs and when she dug in deeper, a clear fluid began to leak from the wound. The women that were helping were cleaning the bleeding wound with cloth and furs and a woman was ready with rabbit furs for the babe. As the wound was deep enough, she began to gently feel for the babe.

" _Careful_ ," A woman, standing above them warned. "The babe could die from the cold. I've seen it happen."

"You don't need to worry about that," The old woman next to her retorted. "The girl is like a fire."

"I-I can feel something," Lysara muttered.

It was not an arm nor leg she felt but it was the babe's back. Lysara carefully grasped the babe, taking a hold of him before she slowly pulled the babe from Dalla's belly. In that moment, the woman drew her final breath as her chest no longer was rising nor falling. Lysara knew from her experience with the pups, babes were delicate creatures and she was careful not to move the babe to harshly. Her breath was laboured and as she pulled the babe from the woman, piercing screams were heard.

" _By R'hllor!"_ She breathed, her voice wavering.

Her bottom lip trembled as she felt tears fill her eyes but she hurriedly blinked them away to see the babe better. The babe was beetroot red and covered in blood. The tiny thing had a screwed up face and kicked and squealed as she held him. A third woman took a dagger and cut the rope of flesh that had tied the babe to its mother. Lysara cradled the babe in her arms, letting the woman with the rabbit furs bundle him in her arms as he kicked and squealed, letting everyone know of his presence. _Promise me, Lysara,_ the woman whispered to her as she stared down at the babe. The babe had the dark locks of Mance but had his mother's features. The babe remained oblivious to the fact that his mother was dead. The brown haired babe began to quieten down, exhausted and settled in her protective embrace.

"A boy!" A woman exclaimed, rising to her feet. "It's a boy!"

"It's a _monster_!" A voice hissed, causing her to still and she looked over her shoulder to see a venomous Val. "That _thing_ killed my sister."

Lysara watched as the teary eyed Val stumbled to her knees and began to cry but she found herself uncaring for the woman as she turned to face the small babe, she adjusted the soft pelts around the boy, tucking them underneath his chin as she wrapped herself in her own furs. Ghost sat next to her, throwing his head back and howled a long and mournful song about the son of Mance Rayder. A small but sad smile appeared on her face as she held the babe, letting woman gather around them but all she could think about was Dalla. _Thank you, Lysara,_ the wind that picked up seemed to whisper.

"What shall be his name?" Lysara inquired, looking up to the woman. "What will Mance name him?"

"You can't name him," The old woman tells her. "It's bad luck to name a child early. It has to witness the world first."

"You can give him a milk name," The other woman offered. "It's a title of sorts."

"Hello," Lysara murmured, caressing the boy's cheek with the back of her hand as she cradled him. "Wild Wolf."

 _Promise me, Lysara. Promise me._

* * *

 _Winterfell_

Young Griff

The entirety of Winterfell was covered in darkness and dread, there was no light from the moon and no star danced in the night's sky. It was a lifeless night. With a sword in his right hand, Aegon reached up with his left and pulled back the hood of his fur cloak revealing his face covered in blood from the guards. His silver blonde hair lightly touched his shoulder as he manoeuvred down the hall with Ser Jon, gripping his sword tighter.

Young Griff could hear and feel his racing heart as he travelled quietly through the halls, swift as a shadow. In his time, looking over maps and eyeing Winterfell with care, he and his ten men he had brought into Winterfell had managed to find their way about with haste. The rest of his men were present outside, waiting for a battle that could ensue.

All Aegon could think of was _who_ Ramsay Bolton was and _what_ the bastard had done and anger coursed through his veins, he felt as if he was on fire and had only one intention in mind. But he was able to remain calm as they reached the supposed door to Ramsay Bolton's chambers. He wanted to kick it down and slit the man's throat but he would not. The man deserved to suffer. His champion was _fire_ and the man would meet a Targaryen death. The guard who was leading them through Winterfell started to struggle, letting out a muffled cry but Ser William raised the knife to the guard's throat, slitting it and let the man drop to the stone ground with a sickening thud.

He opened the door slowly, grimacing as he prepared to hear a groan or creak but when he heard nothing, his heart began to slow. The chambers were dark but a few candles were lit, flickering in the darkness. The candles provided light for him to see to sleeping forms. Aegon shared a glance with Ser Jon before he approached the sleeping figures, his shadow that loomed over them seemed to stir the dark haired whore that was lying next to Ramsay in bed.

Young Griff looked down at the sleeping woman who laid naked in bed with Lord Ramsay. He let out a small snort and that seemed to wake the woman up as her brown eyes opened and her mouth parted as if to scream but he silenced her by sticking the point of his sword into her throat. The woman fell silent, red covering her and he could hear her gurgling and gasping for breath before she fell silent.

 _Injustice with justice,_ Aegon thought to himself.

Young Griff's downcast eyes travelled over to dark haired man, even in his sleep, the man had a deranged smile on his lips. It made him feel disgusted, knowing what he has done to innocent girls. He had heard the stories and the rumours and knew that they were true. It was when he pressed his sword to Ramsay Bolton's neck did the bastard of Dreadfort open his manic blue eyes. Any other man would plead for their life or cry out in outrage but not Ramsay. The man merely lifted a brow and smirked, letting out a cruel laugh as he stared up at him with madness dancing in his eyes. If he had ever known his grandfather, he knew that they would share this mad gleam that brought a chill to him. It felt as if a finger was trailing down his back.

"You do have balls!" Ramsay exclaimed, his lips curling into a grin as he showed his pale pink gums and sharp teeth. "I never thought you'd be one to break a promise, dragon spawn!"

"I lied," Aegon said simply, pressing the sword even harder into his skin, drawing blood from his neck. "You honestly think I was going to risk the lives of my men?"

"You can't kill me," The man responds, causing Aegon to scoff. "I know something about you, Aegon Targaryen! I know something about your family! I know a dark secret! I can give you something you desire! Please...If you let me go, unharmed, of course, I will tell you. You can kill my men. You can kill every other person in this castle if you so wish but if you let me leave with my life, I will tell you what you want to know!"

"What could I possibly desire from the likes of _you_?" Young Griff asked, a smirk appearing on his face at the man's pleading.

" _You have a brother!"_

At this admission, this causes Aegon to stiffen and his smirk to fade from his face. The tight grip he had on his sword, that made his knuckles turn white, slackens as he stares at the wide eyed man. _A brother?_ Aegon thinks, his brows furrowing in confusion as he stares at Lord Ramsay. He only had a little sister, Rhaenys and she was no longer in this world. Like his mother, she was butchered. Like his mother, his sister was unjustly murdered. He had no other brothers and sisters. He had no other siblings. The look in the cruel man's eyes made him think otherwise as he stared on in silence at the man. If the man was lying, it would be the cruellest of jests. _A dragon alone in the world,_ many had murmured. _It is truly a terrible tale. A dragon must have three head._

"What?" Aegon questioned, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You cannot trust him!" Ser Jon spits.

"What if...What if he is telling the truth?" He murmured. "What if-"

"You cannot trust a fucking word that comes out of his cunt mouth, boy!" Lord Umber boomed. "You can't trust him!"

"Tell me," Aegon demands, ignoring both Ser Jon and Lord Umber. "I want to know."

"I found one of noble Ned's secrets," Ramsay smirked. "You cannot honestly think I will tell you _anything_ with a sword pointed at my throat?"

"Alright...If you tell me, I will grant you freedom..." He began, drawing back his sword. "If you value your life, you will tell me. _Now._ "

"You know...bastards rise high in the North," The bastard of Dreadfort laughed but Aegon placed his sword back to Ramsay's neck.

"Do not speak in riddles!" Aegon spits, his temper flaring as he glares at Ramsay. "Who is he? Where is he?"

"Your brother's name is-"

Ramsay falls silent for a moment or so before his lips curl once more and as he opens his mouth to speak, a sword is driven into the bastard's chest. The bastard of Dreadfort lets out a hoarse laugh as Aegon stiffens and he turns angrily to face Ser Jon, who removes his sword from Ramsay and sheathes it into his leather belt. The ageing man's face is calm but his eyes told a different story, his eyes held confliction and fear before Jon Connington's eyes met his fiery violet.

"His life was not _yours_ to take!" He hisses, staring at Ser Jon.

"The man was full of riddles and rhymes. He was messing with your head, boy. I have witnessed more of the world than you ever have. I know men like _him._ You could never have trusted his word," Ser Jon states solemnly, shaking his head. "You wish to rid the world of evil...Yet, you were about to release evil and let _that_ roam free in Westeros. If you did so, how many more women and girls would he rape? How many more innocent men would he flay and slaughter? You will be King soon...what will you do when a crown is placed upon your head?"

"It is my birthright and I will do what a King is born to do," Aegon replied fiercely. " _I will rule."_

Aegon stared at Ser Jon for a moment or so, before he stormed out of the chambers, his cloak whipping wildly behind him as he marched down the hall. His mind was conflicted as he thought on what Ramsay Bolton admitted to him. Young Griff wanted to deny it, he wanted to let his words fall on deaf ears but he could not. All his life he had been alone with nothing but the sea to sail and the skies above him.

He spent the entirety of his childhood, hiding, living on the dreams of Jon Connington and the schemes of Lord Varys. All his life was spent sailing the seas, always fearful for his life, never knowing when they would somehow be discovered. He was alone and friendless. His mother and father were dead. His sister was dead. His birthright was taken from him. Young Griff knew of his uncle and aunt, Viserys and Daenerys along with his uncles, Prince Doran and Oberyn Martell along with cousins. Yet he cared little for them. It brought an ache to his chest as he never felt more alone than he had as he walked along the cold halls of Winterfell.

"A brother..." Aegon murmurs, his brows furrowing as his thoughts began to churn.

* * *

Author's Note: Hey, I hope you like this chapter! I would like to thank all of you for taking the time to read this story, for making this one of your favourites and for also following it. I would like to give massive thanks to everyone that has left a review. If you have any questions, feel free to ask and the next update should be up very soon!

Reviews-

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you! I hope you like this chapter!

ATP: Thank you!

RHatch89: Thanks!

Saint River: I'm glad you liked the theme of chapter twenty three and I hope you liked this chapter. I always liked calling the females of House Stark, she wolves of Winterfell. Lysara will gain her red clothing again when she is taken to the Wall and comes across a certain red woman. Stannis, Davos and Melisandre will be introduced in the next chapter. In a way, Lysara did care for Sweet Robin as with her character, she always tends to favour the lonely, the innocent or the outcasts as she can relate to them.

Arianna Le Fay: No, I can safely say she won't be with Daramyr!

celticank: Thank you! You will find a few more things about the phoenix soon!

Guest: I hope you like this update!

Guest 2: I cannot say much about the origin and myth of the phoenix yet without giving a bit of the plot away but it will be revealed in the next couple of chapters. Stannis will appear in the next chapter with Davos and Melisandre.

azphxbrd: Thank you! It means a lot to me that you like this story. As for Young Griff/Aegon, I have written him to have a strong will and mind with a moral compass that can waver when his emotions get a grip on him. For most of his life, it has been Jon Connington calling the shots and leading the sieges but now that people are starting to look at Aegon as a ruler that is when responsibility will be thrust upon him. He is still young and is not experienced like most rulers so most of his pov's will be his confliction.


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

_The Land Beyond The Wall_

Lysara Stark

It brought her confusion, Lysara did not know why laughter left her lips. All it took was watching Daramyr's little brothers and sister along with the other children wrestling each other in the snow to bring laughter to her. It was a kind and an innocent sight that she welcomed after such cruelty she has witnessed. It reminded her of gentler times with her own siblings. Of a time where her older brother Robb was crownless and alive, where her little brother Brandon, was able to walk in both worlds. Of a time where the wolf pack of Winterfell remained.

 _We should never have left Winterfell,_ she thought solemnly as she longed for what would never be but her attention was brought back to a squeal from Daramyr's little sister, Anya. Val, Nelna, Willa and the pregnant Dalla were watching the children in amusement while she heard a gruff man cheer them on as one of the children gathered a dozen balls made from snow in their arms. Another laugh escaped her but it was a sadder one as she watched the little boy that reminded her of Rickon pelt snowballs at the other children and let out bouts of cheerful laughter as he did so.

A deep rumble sounded and she looked up at the giant that was sat near her and her brows furrowed, wondering what Mag was doing. Mag the Mighty's small eyes that did not fit his large face trailed down to her and he fell silent when she did. _Was he laughing?_ She thought, shock adorning her features as she stared at the giant with care. Lysara held the furs closer to her body, a small smile made its way onto her face as her eyes met the giant's dark ones. The giant murmured something that she did not understand but whatever it is that he said had made some of the Free Folk near them still and Dalla looked over with a fondness towards Mag as Val chuckled.

"It seems he is rather fond of you, fire bird," Dalla said. "The giants tend to not like it when people stare at them. The last man that stared at him too long had his skull crushed."

"You owe me a drink!" Val proclaimed with a large grin as she turned to Nelna. "Didn't I say that Mag had made her his pet?"

"You are far along with child," Lysara remarked, eyeing Dalla's rounded stomach. "Are you praying for a boy or a girl?"

"I am hoping for a girl," The blonde haired woman responded with a small and tired smile. "Yrna claims that since I conceived under the red moon, it will be a girl."

"May I feel?" She asked.

The woman nodded and with a dismissive wave of her hand, Lysara shuffled through the snow and knelt by the woman's side. She reached out and placed her hand against the woman's rounded stomach and gave it a soft stroke with the back of her hand when she felt movement underneath her touch and she looked up to face Dalla, her eyes widening from amazement as Dalla let out a delighted laugh and placed her own hand on her belly. Lysara looked over her shoulder to the small fire, staring at the dancing flames intently before letting her eyes flutter close. She listened to the soft howling of the wind and the whispers coming from the shadows in the fire as she felt the babe shift. The sickening scream that followed after the howling drew her out of her thoughts and her breath hitched. Lysara's hooded eyes trailed up to Dalla and she stared at the woman with furrowed brows.

"It seems she likes you!" Dalla laughed as she felt the babe move once more causing the blonde haired woman to grunt. "She will be a great warrior!"

"He. I see wolves in the child's future," Lysara informed her, her voice barely above a whisper. "I see wolves and winter." _And blood._

"I still think that is some scary shite-" A voice called, causing her to look up from Dalla to see Daramyr strolling forward towards them. "You aren't supposed to know such things."

"I am one of R'hllor's chosen," Lysara points out. "We have no choice in who we are but we do have a choice about how we live our lives. R'hllor does not decide what we live for nor what we will die to defend. It is us that makes those choices. R'hllor does not control our will. All he can do is guide us. It was the Lord of Light's guidance that led me to the Wall and I heeded his voice but I did not know that I would get knocked out and taken beyond the Wall. Our hearts beat and therefore we must help defend the realm of men against the darkness that will consume the world. We all serve and we all die. It is known. You will _never_ find an enemy in me as long as your heart still beats for our Lord. The Black Battle will be a dreadful one. A lot of lives will be lost, the bravest of souls tend to die young yet so do the foolish. I made a promise to get you and your people across the Wall. I intend to keep it. I also want Jon Snow."

"The battle begins at dusk. Any words of wisdom, my Red Princess?" Daramyr drawled, folding his arms across his chest.

"Do not die," Lysara retorts bluntly which causes Val and Dalla to laugh at him as his smirk fades.

"Jon Snow?" Dalla asked curiously, cocking her head to the side.

"He is prettier than most girls I have seen," The red haired man snorts. "Prettier than Val."

"Fuck off," Val sneers as her eyes narrow dangerously as she stares at him. "At least I'm not stuck with your face."

"The crow?" Willa inquired, her voice small and soft. "Why him?"

"He is the Lord's chosen," Lysara replied. "He will be reborn amidst salt and smoke."

"Salt and smoke?" Val asked, licking her lips as a teasing smile makes its way onto her face and she looks up to Mag as he grumbles. "Mag says that he sounds delicious."

"Aye," Daramyr retorted. "I haven't had a decent sup in moons."

"It is true," Dalla agreed, patting her belly. "Yrna said that I had bad blood...It's cause we're starving. Mance wasn't too keen on her when she said I'd lose the babe 'cause of it."

Lysara's smile faded when she turned to face Dalla and her breath hitched when she noticed blood sliding down the woman's face as she wept tears of crimson. The blonde haired woman soon collapsed against the ground, blood surrounding her but as Lysara was about to call for help, she realised that she was alone with the pregnant woman. _The mother will not lose the babe,_ she thought as she knelt beside the woman and looked down at her blood covered hands. _It is the babe that will lose the mother._ She looked back at the blue eyed woman only for her grey eyes to meet a fearful grey that were similar to her own. The dark haired woman held crushed up blue petals in her hand before she shakily reached up and cupped her face, her cold and blood covered hand caressing her cheek.

" _Promise me, Ned,_ " The woman breathed causing her to stiffen. " _Promise_ me."

The sound of a babe roused her from her memory that had transformed into a terrifying night terror, the harsh wails continued as she stirred from her sleep and blinked a few times before opening her eyes. Lysara stared ahead at the weight on her feet and saw Ghost staring at her with curious blood red eyes. He huffed at her as she slowly sat up in her small hut, letting the furs fall from her sweat covered body as she looked at the small, wriggling bundle near her and leant over, hushing the babe as she did so but a frown remained on her tired and tear stained face.

"Hush, Wild Wolf," Lysara murmured, holding him to her chest as she stared ahead to the door where she saw shadows. "It's alright. You are safe. You must have had a night terror…It's alright, I have them too…"

The Battle of Castle Black did not end well for the Free Folk as they suffered loss and a crushing defeat like she had seen in the fires. The great giant, Mag Mar Tun Doh Weg was dead and it brought an ache to her chest from pain and fear. It pained her to know that such magic had to die but it also made her fearful. The giant was the reason as to why she was brought beyond the Wall and the Free Folk made a promise that they would not harm her but now that he was dead, she wondered if they would as Mance Rayder and Val looked as if they would.

Lysara calmed the babe down as she kept her eyes on shadows beneath the door, watching them move pace until the small door opened wide to reveal the King beyond the Wall who had lost his Queen. A day has since passed since the Battle of Castle Black and neither Mance nor Val had acknowledged the life of the Wild Wolf instead they ignored the babe's existence. _Would I do the same?_ Lysara wondered. _If a babe killed my mother or one of my sisters, would I do the same?_

"Mance-" Lysara began hoarsely.

"You know why I am here," He interrupted causing her brows to furrow. "You must know considering what happened at Castle Black."

"I do not know why you are here," She responds with a sharpness and clutches the babe closer to her chest. "However, I will know after you tell me."

"Dalla," Mance Rayder tells her. "I want my wife back."

"Your wife?" Lysara asked. "Your wife is dead."

"I want my wife back," He repeats, his voice cold and harsh. "I know of your power and I want you to _use_ it."

Lysara looked at him with an amused stare before laughing bitterly, shaking her head as she did so. _It is not in R'hllor's will,_ she thought with a hint of a smirk as tears welled up in her eyes once more. It enraged him further as he stormed towards her and gripped her chin tightly, lifting her head up so that her pained grey eyes met his dark brown. The babe gurgled, kicking and punching his furs that he was wrapped in from his body and she looked down at him for a moment.

"You have a son," Lysara informs him. "A life cannot live without death."

"You have magic that can bring her back," The King beyond the Wall said. "Bring her back."

"And do you think I have not tried such a thing?" She seethed softly as he released his grip on her chin. "It will not work. Although my Lord of Light is a blessing, blessings can be cruel. Not all men nor women can be brought back from the dead. It very seldom happens. The Lord of Light did not give me the power to save her because she no longer served her purpose in our realm. All things have a purpose and Dalla fulfilled her purpose whatever it may have been. Tell me, what is the point in having power if I cannot save those I want to save? I wanted to save her. I wanted to save Dalla but I could not. The Lord of Light did not wish to do so. Had Rickon fulfilled his purpose for our Lord...I would not have been able to have brought him back...he would be dead..."

"How not?" Mance urged. "The fire did not _burn_ you. You have a power over _fire_. I saw you dance in fire and come out of the flames _unburnt_. You are a witch."

"I am not a witch," She retorts fiercely. "I am a-"

" _Lysara!"_

 _That voice,_ she thinks and stiffens when the hoarse voice sounds once more. Her downcast eyes look up to Mance before she stands, cradling the babe in her arms and makes her way out of the small makeshift hut, noticing that the Free Folk had grown unsettled. _That voice,_ she thinks once more and she could not help but close her eyes in relief when the voice calls her to him once more. Ghost trails in front of her, hurrying towards the call of him. Lysara followed Ghost with haste, her bare feet meeting the snow and her arms tightening gently around the Wild Wolf as she makes her way towards him. The Free Folk parted for her as she walked forward and caught sight of him.

"Where's my sister?" He demanded, shoving the grip that a man had on him away with a hard stare. "Lysara!"

Lysara did not remember how she started to run but her legs began to ache and her chest heaved as her heart raced in her chest while she ran for them. She could feel the tears on her face but was unable to wipe them away. Lysara felt weak knowing that all could see her weep but she found the sight in front of her more than she could bear. He fell silent when his darker eyes met her own and she could have sworn they were glistening but she found herself uncaring for it as she raced forward. His face was solemn and hard as she remembered as were his eyes but she could see a sadness in them as he stared at her.

"Lysara," He said.

The tears fell from her face as she held his gaze, his brows furrowed and within two strides he was at her side. She wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him closer, burying her head into his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of leather and winter. She trailed her hand and cupped his cheek, her thumb lightly tracing the dark stubble that covered his face with a puzzled frown. She held the babe carefully in her arms, holding him to her chest as she pulled away from him, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand.

"Jon," She croaked. "I've missed you, big brother."

"I've missed you too," Jon murmured and gripped her arm with care and gave it a small tug. "Come on, I'm taking you back to the Wall."

"I-I can't," Lysara replied, pulling away from him as she took a step back. "I made a promise to them, Jon."

"A promise?" Jon asked, tilting his head to the side as his brows furrowed. "What promise?"

"I promised that I would help them get across the Wall," She explained and turned to see Mance approach them. "I made a promise to them."

"It appears I am too trusting of those that come from beyond the Wall," Mance said as he takes a step forward. "Your sister made an oath that would see my people beyond the Wall. Your sister said that we would be welcomed at Winterfell and Wintertown once she reclaimed it. Yet, here we stand still beyond the Wall. I have come to find not to trust the promises of kneelers. Your betrayal hurt, Jon Snow. I thought that your loyalty to us was _real._ It appears I was wrong. Your sister will keep her promise to myself and to my wife. To my people. Your sister will remain with us."

"My sister is a _Stark._ You can't keep her," Jon retorted as Ghost stalked around them, entrapping them in a circle. "A lot of people have been looking for her and I intend to send her somewhere safer than here. You and I both know that the dead are rising. She is in danger here and if I kept her in danger, her mother's ghost will come back to strangle me. As for my loyalty, I was never loyal to you. I was loyal to my Night Watch brothers and I was loyal to my vows."

"Vows? You broke them," Mance laughs. "You could've helped us and _her_ but you didn't. You've spent too much time with us to be a kneeler again. Same with Lysara."

"You saw her again at Castle Black," Lysara assumed. "She fell in battle."

"Yes," Jon answered. "She's dead."

"You fought hard, Jon Snow. You killed our strongest men," said Mance as he eyed Jon with care. "Mag the Mighty led the charge into the tunnels and never came out. I made a promise to the giants that no harm would come to your sister, crow. And I keep my promises, unlike you kneelers. Our giants will take her and my son with them into the Mountains and she will be in no danger there. My wife saw something in her and trusted her when others did not, she put my son's life in her care and made her promise on her blood and name."

"We should have a drink in their honour. To the people that have fallen. To the loves that were both lost," Lysara told them with a solemness. "You both did not gain from the battle."

"We'll drink to them," The King beyond the Wall agreed. "Why are you here, Jon Snow?"

"Like I said," Jon began. "I am here to get my sister and take her home."

"And?" Mance pressed. "You aren't here for just her."

"I want you and your people to turn around and go home," Jon tells him causing her brows to raise.

"They cannot," Lysara said hesitantly, rocking the babe as she turns to look at Jon who held a look of mistrust. "If they do, they will die. The darkness will come to the Seven Kingdoms, Jon. I have seen it in the fires. The sun will not be seen for years once winter has come. We will have nothing but snow beneath our feet and the darkness in front of us. The moon nor stars will be there to guide us. The war between the Night's Watch and the Free Folk has been fought for far too long and it must end. The Night's Watch thinks that the Wall keeps the Free Folk out and the Free Folk thinks that the Wall keeps them in. You are both wrong. You have been wrong for thousands of years. The Wall is to keep out the darkness and the dead. The flames do not lie. The night will never end if we lose. Let them pass. Let them live."

"It isn't as simple as that-" Jon began but was interrupted by Mance.

"Have my people not suffered enough? The three of us know that winter is coming and if my people aren't south of the Wall, we will suffer a fate worse than death. You want to make deals, kneeler?" Mance growls, withdrawing his knife as the Free Folk around them began to draw their own weapons. "Your sister is a wise one and I suggest you listen to her. Here's the bargain. You open the gates to us. Your sister will lead us to the lands she promised we would be safe in and she will also be safe. Refuse...and we will kill every last brother of the Night's Watch. The giants will take your sister and my son and I will ensure that you will _never_ see her again for as long as your heart still beats."

Lysara stands in front of Jon, holding Mance's stare before she stiffens when a horn sounds. The sound of the horn almost deafens her but loud wails erupt from the Wild Wolf causes her to hush him as she turned to face the noise. The Free Folk begin to panic and run around like a pack of frightened animals, mother's were gathering their children and the rest were gathering their weapons. The ground shook beneath her feet and she looked on with wide eyes when men on horseback advanced on them.

"You're attacking us then?" Mance questioned.

"No," Jon said. "We don't have the men."

"Hold!" The King beyond the Wall roared. "To me!"

Lysara clutched the babe tighter to her, eyeing the horsemen with wide eyes as they cut through the Free Folk, killing most that entered their path. She took notice of one of the armoured men and noticed that adorned on his chest plate was a burning heart and a crowned stag. _House Baratheon,_ she thought as she took a step back but collided into Jon who held her wrist tight and pulled her closer to him as she watched the Free Folk fight back.

"Mance," Lysara murmurs causing him to turn to meet her stare.

"Enough blood has been shed!" Mance shouted. "Stand down!"

Mance throws down his weapons and takes his stand, eyeing the two men that ride for them. Her gaze meets a man with a pepper coloured beard and gruff features as he dismounts from his horse before her eyes meet the other man that dismounts after him. _He must be Stannis,_ she thought as she hushes the boy in her arms and places a soft kiss to his forehead to calm him as her eyes remain on the man that seemed to tower over them all.

Like his brother, Stannis was a large and powerful figure but his stance and hardened features made him even more so. He had a frown that seemed to be fixated on his face along with darkened and impassive blue eyes. His thin, colourless lips were also frowning as he approached them. While he held an aura that commanded respect she noticed something darker lurking within it...it was a magic. An ancient magic. He has been kissed by fire. It felt as if she was the one to do so despite just meeting the almost balding man.

"You're the King beyond the Wall?" Stannis addresses, his voice unforgiving and cold but nevertheless Mance nods. "You know who I am then?"

"I've met a lot of people," Mance said with a gruffness. "I can't say I have had the pleasure of meeting you."

"This is Stannis of the House Baratheon," The man next to Stannis informs them. "The one true King of the Seven Kingdoms."

"This isn't the Seven Kingdoms," The King beyond the Wall retaliates.

"It is customary to kneel when surrendering to a King," Stannis said.

"We do not kneel," Mance retorts, the fierce wind carrying his voice to Stannis Baratheon.

"You will do as I command," The Stag replies. "If not, I will have your men in chains by nightfall. Their fate can be changed of course...It depends on the will of their King."

"You have no right," She tells him causing him to face her.

"Lysara-" Jon warns but she ignores him, holding Stannis's cold stare.

"I am Lysara of House Stark. Eldest daughter of Eddard Stark," Lysara announces causing them to still. "You nor I hold power here."

"You were believed dead, my Lady," The man next to Stannis said. "It seems that the rumours hold no truth."

"You were considered dead once the South heard the news that Winterfell had fallen to the hands of Theon Greyjoy, however, the North thought otherwise," Stannis told her. "Your siblings are dead or lost. According to Roose Bolton, he is the Warden of the North and House Bolton rules the North. However, I came to disagree regarding who will rule the North. The Lannisters say, Bolton. I say Stark. Your brothers and sisters are either dead or lost, therefore according to the laws of both men and the crown, you are the heir to Winterfell. I need a Stark in Winterfell."

"I will leave for Winterfell," Lysara nodded. "But I will not go alone. I will either go with the Free Folk or I will not leave at all."

"They do not belong beyond the Wall," Stannis said with an impassiveness.

"The same could be said for you," She muses. "It was _your_ men that invaded their lands and killed their people."

"With all due respect, my Lady. You are speaking to the one true King," The bearded man interrupts. "I suggest you address him as such."

"I am not speaking to the one true King," She said with sad eyes as she shook her head. "The man I called Your Grace held the name Stark. The man I called King was killed at the Red Wedding."

"Your father was an honourable man, was he not?" The Stag questioned.

"He was more honourable than you," Lysara retorts coldly taking in the man as he ground his teeth together, his face becoming irritated as he stared at her. "The little honour that was left in the world died with my father."

"Your Grace," Jon begins causing her to tense as her back meets his chest. "Our father was an honourable man. I am Jon Snow, Your Grace. Ned Stark's son."

"What would he have done with him?" Stannis inquires.

"He had taken Lysara beyond the Wall and kept her prisoner. He could have had her killed or Gods know what else but he kept her alive because of what she could do. He kept her safe," Jon sighs. "I am thankful for it. I think had our father or our brother been alive, they would have taken him as his prisoner. Our father would have listened to what he had to say. It is how justice is dealt in the North. And if our father was still alive and had seen what I've seen, he would have the bodies of the fallen burnt before nightfall."

"What can you do?" The bearded man asked, his eyes focused on her necklace. "That necklace...I've seen it before. My Lady, how did you come to possess such a necklace?"

"Winter is Coming, Davos Seaworth. I have seen it within the fire. The folk of Westeros do not pray for a rightful ruler or a one, true King. The folk of Westeros pray for life and light. Yet the folk of Westeros, no matter which false God they worship will flock to the true God when the winds of winter come to Westeros. So far, we keep being gifted the dawn. The battle for dawn is upon us and once it comes, there will be nowhere left to hide," Lysara proclaims. "The night is dark and full of such terror but there will be a champion to fight for our Lord. I ask for Azor Ahai but all I see is ice and fire."

* * *

Author's Note: Hey, hopefully, you like this chapter! I would like to thank all of you for reading this story, for following and for making this story as one of your favourites. I would also like to give massive thanks to everyone who has left a review, I really appreciate them. The next update should be up soon and if you have any questions, feel free to ask!

Reviews-

EMILCE CULLEN-VULTURE: Gracias!

xdaniellelsextonx: Thank you, I'm glad you liked it!

Saint River: Thank you, Melisandre and Lysara will meet in the next chapter. As for Ramsay's death, let's just say that there will be a surprise in store and Theon will be making an appearance soon as well. As for Lysara and Stannis, there will be a lot of tension between them as their opinions and views on things (in particular the Free Folk) will cause them to clash.

Fan of This: In the coming chapters, there will be a lot of flashbacks and things that happen in the present involving beyond the Wall. So far, there won't be any encounters of Wights of White Walkers but there will be soon. Lysara will come to try and convince Jon of letting the Free Folk through and I hope this chapter sort of proves the start of her trying to. As for Ramsay, I won't go into it much but I wouldn't say he's dead just yet there will be a surprise in store for Aegon as someone turns up at Winterfell. It wouldn't be that simple for him so he isn't as safe as he thinks when they do come. I can say that the Umbers will get their battle. There will be a chapter with House Martell soon but I won't mention which Martell will get a pov.

Guest: The phoenix will be mentioned once again but I won't say who mentions it but it might be surprising when they do.

enuj1799: I hope you liked their brief reunion in this chapter but they won't fully talk until the next chapter.

Roose's Leech: Yeah, I understand that she hasn't proven herself in her pov but behind the scenes she has bonded with them and that will come to show in certain memories she has from her recurring dreams and will show through the ways she will interact with some of the Free Folk in every chapter or so. I have something in mind for when it comes to the White Walkers but I can't mention it yet without giving a bit of the plot away. In this chapter, I hope this sort of explains a few things and I hope it shows her trying to get them beyond the Wall even though it will be a struggle. There will be more of her trying to defend the Free Folk in the next chapter as well.

chibi-no-baka: Thanks!

Guest 2: I hope you like this update!


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

_The Wall_

Lysara Stark

Lysara was summoned to Stannis Baratheon's chambers soon after she arrived at the Wall. The gown she had been given in place of the fur cloak she had worn was red. The red had once been rich in colour but had since faded through time, it looked and felt uncomfortable to wear as it took her breath away with its iron like grip on her waist from the fitted corset inside of the dress. No matter how the dress looked, it gave off a smell of burning wood which gave her some form of comfort at the cold and cruel wall of ice. She had seen her mother wear a dress like this once with a high collar, slashed sleeves with a deep red lace beneath and gold buttons down the front. The original owner of this dress was much taller than herself as the dress had a long train that dragged against the snow covered floor.

As the squire opened the door for her, she exchanged a cold stare with the cowering boy that she towered over before entering. The first thing she came across was a small fire pit in the middle of the large chambers and then her eyes landed on the ageing man bent over his desk, his black feathered quill never leaving the parchment. His gaze narrowed as it flickered up from the piece of parchment to stare at her with nearly black eyes. A disgruntled noise left his lips as he placed his quill back in the ink pot. Ser Davos was standing next to Stannis Baratheon, wariness adorning his features when their eyes met.

"Lysara of the House Stark, Your Grace," The boy said, bowing low before he left the room at the King's command.

"Stannis Baratheon," Lysara nods. "The answer is still _no._ I do not kneel to a Stag King."

"So I have heard," Stannis responds. "Where is the babe? The Wildling Prince?"

Lysara remains silent, straightening her back and raises her head to meet his angered gaze. _They will kill him,_ the woman's words plagued her. _You and I both know this._ The woman she made a promise to spurred a fierceness in her. A fierceness that she hasn't felt in a long time. She owed the Free Folk. The Free Folk had brought her into their home, fed her and clothed her when she had none. She had told stories to the children around the fire and ate with the _giants_ themselves. The promise she made that night would be kept until her last breath. _I won't let the likes of you hurt him,_ Lysara thinks while she eyes him in defiance. _He's the Wildling Prince. The wild wolf. I'd set the world on fire if you touch him._

The babe that had not even witnessed its first moon had somehow gained a place in her heart. The babe reminded her of her siblings in the strangest of ways. He had the innocence of Rickon. He had the curiosity of Bran. He had the spirit of Arya and the gentleness of Jon. If he grew, she was certain he would be like Arya. The thought of her siblings brought an ache to her heart but when she held the babe to her chest it eased somewhat. The babe was under her care and that was all she knew. As were the Free Folk.

"Your siblings are presumed dead or lost," Stannis continued and she could not help but flinch at the sharpness in his voice. "You are the heir to the North. The next in line to Winterfell."

"I am a woman," She points out. "Lords tend to follow Lords. It is known."

"Your heirs won't be," He informs her, her eyes meeting his dark ones. "I need a Stark in Winterfell. You are the Stark that I need."

"I thought the Bolton's held Winterfell?" Lysara inquired.

"The Bolton's?" Stannis mused. "The Bolton's bastard does not hold Winterfell. Word has it Targaryen banners are above Winterfell...But not for much longer. I will bring a fight to this false Targaryen. I want House Stark to swear allegiance to House Baratheon and for the Northerners to join my cause. I want the Iron Throne from the false King, Tommen Baratheon. I will lead Westeros into a new age, therefore, I will need new Lords-"

"You mean to sell me to the highest bidder?" Lysara hums, her lips curling into an amused but sarcastic smile. "I have no desire to marry. I never have and I never will."

"As if you have a choice in the matter," Stannis said, leaning forward in his chair. "For the sake of the North. For the sake of Westeros. For the sake of House Stark...You must marry. However, Lady Melisandre believes different. You are a worshipper of R'hllor. Like herself. _I have seen her in the flames,_ she tells me. Lady Melisandre has seen Volantis in _your_ future. But she also has seen _dragons_ in your future. I doubt you want those things. You want Winterfell. You want the North. I can give you that."

"That is all fine and well," Lysara mocks. "I must admit that I have never felt so desirable before. The witch child of a great Lord that consorts with Free Folk. I am afraid that I must decline any offers of marriage. I made a promise to the Free Folk that I would get them beyond the Wall. I won't be kneeling and I won't be swearing allegiance to _you._ You marched beyond the Wall, attacked the very people I have sworn to protect and I made a promise to-"

"You talk like them," He retaliates. "The Wildlings-"

"Aye, I talk like a Northerner. So do the Free Folk," She snaps. "I lived, ate, drank and slept with the Free Folk and the giants-"

"Giants?" Stannis scoffs.

"The White Walkers," Lysara hisses, her eyes narrowing. "Do you really think that they _care_ who sits on the Iron Throne? The winds of winter are blowing, the horn of winter has been sounded and soon enough, the dead will come for us all. The nights are growing darker and colder. You are not capable of leading us into the battle for dawn. You are not a capable leader to fight against the dead. I have seen them in flames."

"You are an insolent pup," He barks, rising from his seat with his hands slammed on the table. "I will take King's Landing and the Iron Throne."

"You already tried that..." She laughs. "You lost to wildfire."

"Your father and brother were written off as _traitors._ It is lies. Lies that the Lannister's and Bolton's have spewed," Stannis said calmly, clasping his hands behind his back as he peered at her. "House Stark has been around since the First Men...Do you want the Stark name to die out? Do you really want to be some mere page in a history book? Is this how you want House Stark to be known for? House Lannister will deem House Stark a traitorous house. I want the Iron Throne and I know that with the North's backing I can have it."

"And what about what _I_ want?" Lysara asked, her voice small as she looked to the stone floor. " _Justice_ for my family. I want Winterfell but I also want the Free Folk to be allowed beyond the Wall. I want to see them go far south where the Others cannot get them. I want the babe I promised to protect to be safe from harm. I don't care about any birthright I have not at the price of becoming something that I am not. You can behead me for it. Go on. Do you _really_ think that my life is such a precious thing to me that I would trade the lives of those people for...for what?"

"The Wall stands," He said. "The Wildlings will _stay_ beyond the Wall."

"Then..." She trails off. "I will stay beyond the Wall."

Lysara falls silent, giving them a nod before turning on her heel to leave. The soft wind hits her as she opens the door a crack, slipping out of it like a cat would do an alley and trails down the steps, the skirt of her dress brushing the snow from the wooden steps. She holds the railing, letting her fingers lightly trace the small layer of ice that had collected on it. The noise of the door opening and closing behind her along with the hurried footsteps make her stiffen. Lysara looks over her shoulder to see Ser Davos clutching the railing, racing down the steps after her. She acknowledges him with a raised brow before continuing down the steps.

"My Lady," Ser Davos began as he hurried to her side as she trailed down the snow covered steps. "I do not think it is a wise decision to disregard Stannis' offer. You are in need of our help if-"

"If I wish to reclaim Winterfell? Please, spare me the pleasantries. It is not I who needs help, it is _your_ supposed King that needs my help. A false King," Lysara scoffed as she bit back bitter laughter and turned to face Ser Davos with a small smirk. "The true King will lead us into the battle for dawn after we have endured the Long Night. Stannis is no true King. Neither was Robert. Or Joffrey. Tell me, why should I trade my wolf King for a stag King? What difference will it make? People will still suffer. People will still wage war. People will still _die_...Like, my father...Like, my mother...Like my brother..."

"I am sorry for your loss, my-"

"Though I suppose that is how life works, is it not? People live. People die. There are all sorts of cruel men and women in the world that do terrible things to the innocent all in the name of what they deem is _right._ What right does a stag have to judge a wolf? Same with lions and dragons. I know men like Stannis and I know he would see the world _burn_ to get what he wants. But what about what I want? I do not want to see this world burn nor do I want to see it consumed in winter. All I want...All I have ever dreamed of is spring..." Lysara murmured. "I pray for it as does the people of Westeros. The people do not look to a King for help. The people look to their Gods albeit the false ones. The people do not pray to a King for rain or a good harvest or a short winter. The people pray to their Gods. I doubt Stannis is capable of making it rain? Unless...He has some form of power that I was not made aware of?"

"I am not one for believing in that, my Lady," Ser Davos replied gruffly with a shake of his head, eyeing her necklace with a wariness lingering behind his tired but nevertheless kind eyes. "I don't believe in the Gods. I think that mothers and fathers made up stories about the Gods to distract their children from the cruel world we live in. Little children are killed all the time. The Gods aren't with us when we are born and the Gods certainly aren't with us when we die."

"Nor do I. I believe in _a_ God. I believe in R'hllor. I was merely a babe when I was touched by his light," She breathed. "When I was gifted this curse...A gift that I have little to no control over. He could have left me to endure a long and painful death but he did not. He let me live and in turn, I gave him worship. I was gifted _fire_. I do not worship nor obey Stannis. He holds no power here. He is _no_ King of mine nor is he a God amongst men like you and many others so think."

Her attention was brought to the shadows overlooking them from above and as she searched the shadows, she caught sight of a red haired woman. The woman garbed in crimson silk regarded her with a blank expression but behind the impassive eyes held a recognition. A finely arched brow was raised towards her as the woman's long nailed hand came to rest on the wooden pillar that she was standing beside. The pale faced woman's face smiled but her eyes did not.

The woman kept her gaze before the copper haired woman turned back into the shadows. The shadows seemed to welcome the red woman. _Lady Melisandre,_ Lysara thought to herself as she recalled the woman Stannis had mentioned earlier. _One may think that Selyse wears the crown but truly it is the Lady in red, Melisandre who wears it._ She turns to face Ser Davos who was staring at her in apprehension, her unflinching and cool stare made him shift uncomfortably on his feet as he slouched to the left of her.

"Never claimed he was, my Lady. None of us are heroes. It is Lady Melisandre that claims he is some sort of God," Ser Davos said, a frown on his face at the thought. "Stannis may not be able to offer you peace or freedom but he can offer you _vengeance._ Vengeance for your brothers and your sisters, for your mother and your father and for yourself. Honour might have died with Lord Stark...But _justice_ did not. No man in the Seven Kingdoms is more honourable and true than Stannis. He will keep his word."

"Tell that to the burning girl," Lysara retaliated. "He didn't keep his word to her."

"Burning girl?" Ser Davos repeats, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"At Blackwater. The night that water turned to fire...Do you remember how they _screamed_? Do you remember how they screamed _and_ screamed?" Lysara demanded, raising a brow at him as his face hardened at the mentioning of the battle. "The Red Woman at the Stag King's side knew what was to happen. As did I. All those lives. All those men...Most were _boys._ All gone. Do you remember the dreams? All those horrible dreams about fire and death. I would listen to them."

"I don't believe much in dreams, my Lady," Davos responds simply. "Dreams...Gods...The Seven Hells and Heavens...All stories."

"We serve the same purpose in this world. We all do," Lysara tells him. "No matter how old or young. How brave or weak. How wise or foolish. We all serve."

"We all serve," Davos agrees with a nod of his head. "But do we all serve the same purpose?"

"Aye, if you fight for the _living..._ " She trailed off. "You have nothing to fear from me, Ser Davos."

* * *

"You can't be burned," Breathed the little girl, Ellina as she sat next to her along with the other children that were gathered at the large fire that burned bright. The red haired girl stared at her in something akin to awe while she sat, rocking Wild Wolf in her arms as she sang under her breath for the night to be over. "Daramyr said that it was because of someone called Rollo. I reckon that you should see Yrna...She will sort out that curse. Why would someone curse _you_?"

"R'hllor," Lysara corrects, her lips twitching into a smile as she notices the similarities between Ellina and Daramyr. "I don't need to see Yrna. Although some may call it a curse...It is rather a blessing. I was blessed with a lot of things. There is all but two gods. There is light and there is dark. The God of Light is filled with fire while the Other is filled with darkness. The Other is the one who breathes winter into the bodies of the dead and makes them rise again. He summons armies of rain and lightning, of ice and snow. The night is dark and filled with such terrors...Terrible things happen in the darkness but our Lord of Light casts the darkness from our lives. He has a champion...A champion to help our fight against the White Walkers-"

"You shouldn't mention them," A dark haired girl called Mally scolds, her brows furrowing as she stared at her. "Names mean power."

"Shut it!" Thorik grumbles, giving her a rough shove. "I want to know more. Who's the champion? Is it Mance? Tell us!"

"It is said that our champion was born after a long summer," Lysara recalls, thinking back to the man's words. "It is said that when the world is cast into darkness, the Lord of Light will bring forth a champion who will be reborn amidst salt and smoke, wielding the flaming sword Lightbringer to defend our world against the Other. The night we will suffer will be a long one before our champion is able to wield the sword of flame. When the sword is rekindled with fire...It is said that spring will come to Westeros once more. The flowers will bloom in the fields. The streams will flow with water once more and the leaves will cover the trees..."

 _The world needs Jon Snow,_ Lysara thinks to herself. _And the man with purple eyes._ Lysara listened absentmindedly as the children made up their own stories about who the champion is but her mind was on the man with the silver hair and purple eyes that were consumed by fire. She dreamt of him last night like she did most nights that weren't filled with warnings of White Walkers and winter coming.

 _Aegon._ The man was called and her mind went back to Winterfell being taken by supposed Targaryen's. _Perhaps he is R'hllor's champion...But Jon...I ask for Azor Ahai and all I see is snow._ A small gurgle brought her attention back down to the Wildling Prince and she smiled, stroking his cheek with the back of her finger with a tenderness before looking back to the children at a sudden argument that was rising among the several children that were sitting near the fire with her. The children reminded her of the promise she made to the Free Folk and to the giants. It felt as if she was carrying the world from the heaviness of her promise.

"It's you!" Thorik exclaimed, pointing to her in excitement. "It has to be! Hasn't it? You danced with fire!"

"It isn't!" Mally retorted. "Our champion is Mance. Lysara is our fire bird."

 _Fire bird_ _,_ she thought to herself. _That name again._ It wasn't the first time the Free Folk have called her this. The giants called her _red_ but the Free Folk called her a _fire bird_. The name brings a warmth to her that she has felt once before. The time when she breathed life back into her brother. _I'll find you,_ she thinks to herself and prays to R'hllor that her brothers are safe. _I will always find you. I promise._ She had never heard of a fire bird before but she assumed it was some sort of bird that lived beyond the Wall.

"Fire bird?" Lysara repeats, the name giving her a pleasant feeling. "What is a fire bird?"

"A lot of us wear the feathers of the fire bird, I do!" Jarald exclaimed, shuffling closer to her while he pulled out a thin piece of rope from around his neck and showed her a single fiery feather. _It's beautiful,_ Lysara thinks while she marvels at the red feather that held both orange and yellow hues. If she peered close enough, she could see a hint of brown here and there although it was very little. "See! Ma says that the fire bird represents somethin'. It gets passed down for luck...Daramyr says that he has his own luck so I got it!"

"It represents rebirth," Mally said with sadness. "The fire bird is said to die but it rises from the ashes wiser and stronger than it once was. The fire bird represents new life. I think Yrna said that the fire bird died out a long time ago. The bird was caught a long time ago. There all gone now. The fire bird is a symbol of luck for us. The kneelers beyond the Wall didn't like it. The kneelers cast it from their lands with torches and their hunting dogs. The fire bird came to us and we accepted it. We are made of stronger stuff than them."

"It was a silly bird," A voice murmured causing her to look up at the frail Yrna who shakily walked towards them, her hands clasped behind the long sleeves of her fur robe. The long white haired woman grabbed her chin with her thin and shaking fingers and raised her chin so that their eyes met. "It was silly but wise. It was called the fire bird...It set itself on fire but it didn't burn...The silly thing set itself alight and rose from the ashes only to be born once more-"

"Lysara hasn't heard the story!" Jarald proclaimed, shifting where he sat in excitement. "Can you tell it?"

"What?" Yrna asked, her grip tightening on her chin. "The girl is like the fire bird. She doesn't even know her own blood, stupid girl. It was her own ancestor who had discovered the bird."

"What?" Lysara asked, stiffening as she stares into the woman's eyes as the woman looked at her in amusement.

"Above the skies of the North, a bird free us with its wings of flame. It lit up the night's sky when nothing else could. It set the wights aflame. The man that discovered the bird was the very man to drive it beyond the Wall. The first King of the North!" Yrna proclaimed, the wind picking up with her words as Lysara stared at her with wide eyes, the very words turning her blood cold as the words brought a shiver to her that not even the cloak wrapped around her could prevent. "The man that built the very wall before us. _Brandon the Builder._ Go on, girl. Look into the fire and tell me...Tell me of the dancing shadows within the flames."

Lysara sucked in a sharp breath, her breath hitching when the woman released her chin and let her eyes rest on the fire that crackled. The dark shadows that twisted and twirled within the array of colours began to take form as she knelt closer, her brows furrowing as she took in the strange winged creatures that were dancing within the flames.

"Do you know what your ancestor did?" Yrna hissed as she stared into the flames with horror. "He drank its _blood_ …"

At first, she took in the two large wings and then the long tail and beak before a large fiery eye met her own and sorrowful cries echoed in her ears causing her to jump back from fright. The haunting song brought tears to her eyes but when a hand landed on her shoulder causing her to look up, she met the small eyes of the old woman. The woman leant closer and pressed her cold lips to the tip of her ear.

"The fire bird still exists," The woman whispers, caressing her pale face. "Somewhere. It lives within the land of always winter. It guards the Horn of Winter."

* * *

 _Winterfell_

Young Griff

"That bastard rots in the dungeons while his father marches on Winterfell as we speak!" Lord Umber growled, slamming his ale down on the table. "You won't get any more information from the likes of that bastard. I say kill Roose Bolton's son, flay him and have him hang outside of Winterfell as a warning to Roose! Lysara Stark is at the Wall with Ned Stark's bastard! I heard that she got taken by the Wildlings! We have served House Stark since the First Men! Why should we serve the likes of _you_ when we can serve Lysara Stark? I owe a lot to Ned and as long as I still draw breath, I intend for her to live! Why should a Connington lead an army of _Northerners_ to Wall? Fuck that! I'm the man you want. I'll march for the Wall, tell Stannis to go fuck himself and bring Lysara back to Winterfell."

"It is not as simple as that," Aegon sighed, looking down at his cup of wine. "As long as Ramsay still lives Roose will still pose a problem for us. Roose Bolton will be here at dusk. Ser Connington is Hand of the King, he will march for the Wall and handle the negotiations. It will be Jon Connington that brings Lysara back from the Wall. I will hold Winterfell and crush Roose Bolton into the snow. Then, I will kill his bastard. His wound is festering and it will not be long before he is dead."

"I will not march behind a Connington!" Lord Umber booms, rising from his seat. "I will retrieve Lady Lysara from the Wall or I will march back home with my men."

"Do so, Lord Umber," Young Griff replies as he keeps his angered gaze and leans back in his chair, placing the cup on the table before he finds himself standing like Lord Umber even though the man towers over him, casting a shadow on him. "After I have dealt with House Bolton. I will deal with _you_ next. I will march to your home and will lay waste to _your_ army and I will burn _your_ keep to the very ground and make _you_ eat the ashes of it."

"Fuck off," Lord Umber grunts. "We're Northerners. You're a fucking dragon. I run with wolves. Why should I take idle threats from a boy prettier than most Lord's daughters."

"I am not your enemy!" Aegon seethes, regarding the men sitting around the table. "We have shared enemies. Your enemies are marching for Winterfell. Your enemies are ruling Westeros. Your enemies have nothing to offer you but commands. I have not travelled to the North to offer you commands. I bring you a choice. Your liege Lord Eddard Stark was _murdered._ That was insult enough and then they _murdered_ your King, Robb Stark! All our lives _you_ have to obey the lions! The same lions that had my mother and sister slaughtered all because of a _name_. Do you think their tyranny ended with my family? It didn't! It gave them more power...What are lions?"

The crowd of bannermen that surrounded the table wasted no time to shout their protests and stomp their feet in agreement. Lord Umber held his gaze for a moment or so before he raised his fist and slammed it against the table, it sounded like thunder in the crowded hall of Winterfell. He roared out his own opinions before Aegon raised his hand to silence them, it took the riled Northerners a while to calm before he continued. He was filled with pride and power. He felt hungry for the war that was on the horizon between himself and Roose Bolton. _I will show them what fire and blood means,_ Aegon thought to himself in triumph as he held his head higher than before.

"Those that will fight with me tonight will forever be known as my _brother_ ," Young Griff proclaimed. "I want the lions...I want the Lannister's _dead_ and they will _die_! Together, we will lay waste to their armies and burn Casterly Rock to the ground! I am Aegon of the House Targaryen, I am the blood of the dragon and I swear that those who have wronged the North will die _screaming_. It is not their screams I want but rather it is their _blood_. We will feast on it!"

More roars erupted then, more fists were banging against the tables or walls as feet were thundering against the ground. Swords were rising and axes were getting battered against shields, a small smile made its way onto his face as he took in the near overwhelming scene that he was faced with. Aegon let his purple eyes close for a moment while he began to take in the noise. Some voices were excited, some voices were angered and others were bloodthirsty. But all the voices were _pained._ It was a sorrowful song of what was lost. Young Griff reopened his eyes, exchanging a glance with Ser Connington who held a concerned frown but nevertheless a small smile graced his face.

"I haven't forgotten nor will I forgive what was done to House Targaryen!" Aegon said, raising his voice above the chant men. "Will you forget what was done to the North? The insult?"

" _The North Remembers!"_

Aegon smiled, taking in the sight that surrounded him as he took in each face. His smile widened when Lord Umber kept his gaze before standing once more and unsheathed his sword, raising it high in the air as he turned to address the riled up Northmen. Young Griff turned to face Ser Connington who stood from his chair and clapped him on the shoulder, the concern was still present on the ageing man's face as the wrinkles at the corners of his face crinkled. As Aegon was about to ask about Ser Jon's wariness, the booming voice of Mors Umber caught his attention.

" _The Winter Dragon!_ "

"Come with me," Ser Jon murmured low, keeping his hand firm on his shoulder. "I wish for us to speak alone."

" _The Winter Dragon!"_

"Now!" Ser Connington growled, grasping him by the arm and pulled him out of the hall. "We need to speak alone. It is a serious matter."

"And it could not have waited?" Aegon demanded, looking at him with a raised brow but let out a grunt as he was shoved up against a wall.

"You won't win this war. You are still an insolent _boy._ You think that this is over?" Ser Jon challenged, raising a brow as he placed two hands on his shoulders and gave him a shake. "Aegon...You do not know what you are leading yourself and those men into. Stannis Baratheon and Roose Bolton are experienced men. Those men are dangerous and all for the sake of a lass-"

"She isn't just some _lass_!" Young Griff hissed. "She is Lysara of House Stark and I intend to have her as my Queen. I have won every battle so far!"

"Those were battles!" Ser Connington retaliated, his eyes narrowing. "Do you want to fight in a _real_ war, boy? If you do, Stannis will give you a war! You call yourself a _King_? You aren't a King, boy! A King does not start a war! A King prevents it! Are you mad, boy?"

"You know what they say...When a Targaryen is born the God's flip a coin," Aegon jested weakly, causing Jon Connington to stiffen. "We Targaryen's are mad. It is known."

"You _are_ mad...Yet I suppose some of the greatest people were..." Ser Jon trailed off.

 _Like my father,_ Aegon knew that was what Ser Jon wanted to add but was grateful that the man chose not to. He felt nothing but resentment towards his father for what he had done to his mother. He often wondered why his father left his mother until he saw the portrait of House Stark. The reason his father was said to have kidnapped the she wolf, Lyanna was because she was beautiful then he would have done the same to Lady Lysara.

The woman in the portrait was the woman from his blissful dreams. He dreamt of her stomach that was round with child and fell further inlove with a woman that he did not even know except from what he gathered from the illusions in his dreams. Last night, he had dreamt of her with a strange bird of flame on her shoulders. It's long feathers were like a cloak of fire down her back.

"Your Grace!" A voice shouted, causing him to look over Ser Jon's shoulder to see a wild and frantic messenger running for him. "Your Grace!"

"Yes?" Aegon asked, nodding to the messenger how bowed to him. "What is it?"

"It's Lord Bolton," The messenger breathed, trying to regain his breath as the name made him still. Aegon's jaw clenched and his face hardened as he pulled himself from Ser Jon's grip. "He is at the gates, Your Grace...He wants his son handed over to him or he will set Winterfell alight."

* * *

Author's Note: Hey, I hope you liked this chapter. The next chapter will contain a battle of words at the Wall and a battle of swords at Winterfell! I would like to thank everyone for reading this story, for following and making this story as one of your favourites. I would also like to thank everyone that has left a review, I enjoy receiving each and every one of them. If you have any questions, feel free to ask and the next update will be up very soon!

Reviews-

ZabuzasGirl: Thanks!

RHatch89: Thank you!

12345678910: Thank you, I'm glad you think so!

Saint River: I hope you like this update, Lysara and Melisandre will converse in the next chapter but will they will share some common ground, there will be a clash of sorts between them. There will be a lot of interactions with Lysara and Melisandre in the chapters to come.

enuji1799: As of this chapter, Davos doesn't have any initial thoughts he just sees a girl who has some strong views who is making a wrong choice but his opinion on her will be known in the next few chapters.

celticank: Thank you, I hope you like this chapter!

Guest: Thank you for pointing those mistakes out, I am pleased to that the Red Lady of the North is wearing her usual red again.

EMILCE CULLEN-VULTURI: Gracias!

CrystalVixen93: Thank you, hopefully, you like this chapter!

DalysanneSnow: Thank you for reviewing! I'm glad you like Lysara's characteristics and perspective in this story. Although I have a lot of favourite characters, Arya, Sansa and Melisandre are favourites of mine.

Guest 2: You are right about some things that Lysara will be doing in the future but what I won't say, she is a rather mysterious character so I want to keep her ending mysterious.


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

_Winterfell_

Jon Connington

"Damn _bastard_."

Jon hissed under his breath, cursing the damned dragon as he inspected the wound that Rhaegar had inflicted upon him during their duelling. A small cough brought his attention towards his chamber door where the timid Lady Ashford stood, her eyes downcast as her face reddened when she took note of his chest. In the silence, he grimaced when his blunt nail caught the dried blood of his wound letting the blood flow from it once more. Jon stared at the woman, his brow raised as he took in her frightened features.

"You look troubled, Lady Ashford," Jon commented, pressing a damp cloth to his bleeding wound. "What is it?"

"It is Princess Elia," The blonde haired woman began. "She wishes to speak with you, My Lord."

"Can't it wait?" He grunted, his brows furrowing in concern.

"It is a matter of importance," Lady Ashford insists.

For a fleeting moment, the woman looks panicked and pained but the frightful emotion is gone from her and is filled with a quiet determination that he cannot help but admire. _Women,_ he thinks to himself as the woman garbed in pink silk takes a step forward. _The most daring and admirable creatures in this world. The fiercest ones._ It is times like this that he thinks of his own mother and he could not help but let a small smile appear on his stoic face.

"Please," The woman begs. "We must make haste, my Lord."

Jon let out a silent curse, dropping the cloth and slips his tunic over his head, shuddering at the uncomfortable feeling of the clothing clinging to the dampness of his skin. He followed after the shaking woman through the red bricked halls of the keep. Jon winced with each stride he took, his side stinging as he walked behind the woman. He struggled up the steps towards the tower, stiffening at the sound of weeping before he opened the door to her chambers. Although Jon was never on the best of terms with Elia, he could not help but give the bedridden woman a pitiful glance before a small smile appeared on his face when he noticed the silver haired babe in her arms. _Aegon,_ he recalled the joyous moment the Prince came into the world.

After the birth of Prince Aegon, Princess Elia had been bedridden ever since. When it came to childbirth, the woman's fragile and lithe figure could barely handle it. Jon could still remember before and after the birth of the beautiful Princess Rhaenys, the woman had been bedridden for most of her pregnancy and birthing the Prince was no exception. The same terrible things happened to Elia. He looked from the babe in Elia's arms to the mischievous Lady in Waiting, Ashara Dayne but his frown returned when he saw fear present in the purple eyes of the woman. Seeing the tired face of Elia Martell reminded him of how _young_ she was and it caused him to wince.

"My Lord," Princess Elia greeted, her voice soft and hushed. "I am sorry to call upon you but it is of importance. How is Rhaegar? I have not seen him since the birth of Aegon. It has been _days_. And what of the ship for Dorne? Is it prepared? Once I have grown stronger, I wish to leave for Dorne to see Doran and Oberyn. There has been talk that Rhaegar has disappeared this morn and his whereabouts are uncertain, is there truth to this?"

"Rhaegar...Rhaegar is-" Jon paused, looking for a word to use. _Deluded? Mad? Insane?_ His thought offered but he shook his head. "Prince Rhaegar is well. I am sure he will come to see his son and daughter son soon, Princess. The last I heard, he was travelling to Dragonstone to oversee some business for King Aerys. He will be back soon, I swear. "

 _Lies,_ the better part of him hissed. Ever since the she wolf made her presence known, he knew from the moment that the Dragon Prince locked eyes with Lady Lyanna Stark that it would cause nothing but trouble and it has. He has managed to keep the rumours of Lady Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar quiet but so far he has been unsuccessful and it led to a bloody fight between himself and the Prince. All the hope he had for the Princess of Dorne had turned to ash when Rhaegar rode passed his own wife and mother of his children at the tourney and crowned Lady Lyanna, his Queen of Love and Beauty. _You damned fool,_ Jon cursed Rhaegar. He knew that if the relationship continued between the wolf and the dragon, the whole of Westeros would _burn._

"Dear Jon," Princess Elia murmured, tears gathering in her eyes as she looked at him hopelessly while he stiffened at the term she used for him. The woman barely called him by his name and only used proper titles. "Amongst the court of King's Landing, you are one of the most kindest I have ever known but do not spare my feelings. He is with _her_ , is he not? Has he lain with her? Married her? Taken her as a second wife and left me to rot and wither? Tell me, Jon."

"Do not cry, Princess," He sighed. "I have tried to knock some sense into him but-"

"You got hurt," The brown haired woman interrupted with a breathless sob which unsettled Aegon in her arms. "I'm _sorry._ I am sorry, Jon. So-"

"No. I do not want to hear another apology pass from your lips," Jon retorted, his brows furrowing as he lightly scolded the woman. "You have _nothing_ to be sorry for. It is _his_ foolishness. You are dutiful, Princess. Unlike him. Seven Hells! I don't know which God is jesting but I'm not laughing. When I get my hands on that bloody dragon, I'll wring his neck."

"Not if I get to him first," Ashara laughed, though her bout of laughter held no humour but instead held anger and bitterness. "You men...All the same!"

" _Excuse me?_ There are _no_ other men like me," Jon growled, taking offence as he turned to face the glaring woman but a sigh brought his attention back to Elia.

"I must be strong," Elia breathed, hushing Aegon. "I must prepare for what is to come. For the sake of Rhaenys and Aegon. I must..."

"Prepare for what, Princess?" He questioned hesitantly, his eyes looking to the stone floor as he braced himself for the answer he did not want.

" _War_ ," The brown eyed woman said, causing him and Ashara to stiffen at her words. "You and I both know, Jon. You are no fool. Rhaegar has made his choice. As have I. He can do as he wishes. I do not care for him now. I care for my children, Rhaenys and Aegon. I am now a mother protecting her daughter and son. And I _will_. Yet as of late, I have grown weaker. The Maester told me that I should have _died_ but I lived on and I know why I lived on. I still have a purpose. It is to protect _my_ dragons. I need your help, Ser Jon Connington...Come closer."

"Princess," Jon began in disbelief, striding over to her bedside until he was kneeling beside her and took her shaking hand and nodded respectfully towards the young woman. "You do not need to ask _anything_ of me, for I would already do it. I love Rhaenys and Aegon...Your children will be _safe_ as long as I still have some fight left within me. Your children will live until their skin wrinkles and their hair grows white and withered. I will protect you and your children until my dying breath."

"Listen to me, Jon Connington..." Elia Martell croaked, tears falling sliding down her face and he wiped them away, unable to look at the crying woman as his heart ached. He has seen a lot of horrors and cruelty in his years that he has grown used to most things but a weeping woman was something that he could not bear to witness. _Damn you,_ he cursed once more as he stared on at the sobbing Elia. _Rhaegar. Come back, fool. Do not take Lady Lyanna to bed. Do not start a damned war over some girl. It is bad enough we have a Mad King but a Mad Prince?_ The woman sat further up, despite the objections of Lady Ashara and her tight grip on his hand made his fingers grow white as she showed him the small babe. "You must protect him. He is the heir to the Iron Throne. A Prince of Westeros."

"Of course I will bloody protect you," Jon whispered fiercely, returning the tight grip. "I promise that I will protect _you_ and your children to the end of my days."

"My children," Elia mumbled. "Varys has sworn that Rhaenys and Aegon would live. I have made arrangements for my daughter to go to Dorne. I am grateful that Lord Varys will take her there...However, I have very little people I can trust in court and you are the last person I can trust. I entrust in you, my son, Aegon. I am dying...Each day I grow weaker and if I am to die, I will die knowing that my children will outlive me and their father. When the war breaks out...Take Aegon...Protect him...Promise me, Jon."

" _I promise, Elia. I will not fail you."_

"Ah, hello!" Ramsay greets, his voice hoarse and filled with mocking malice as he stares at him with wide and feral eyes. "I trust that little prick is going to fight my father? _Good_. You have raised some pathetic whelp...He can't even kill me! Let's me rot in a cell. Tell me, where is my Reek? I thought he would have helped me by now. I'm his Master. I'm part of him. I _always_ will be there. No matter if I am dead or alive. I have planted that seed of doubt into the boy's mind and the moment he finds out...He will turn on _you._ He might even kill you. Aegon and I...We are quite alike, are we not? When my father retakes Winterfell, I will _kill_ the boy in front of you and-"

"If _you_ don't shut yourself up... _I_ will shut you up!" Jon growls, his voice low as he hoists Ramsay up and shoves him roughly up the stone steps, uncaring if the bastard that looked more like a corpse rather than a man trips or not. "You have already lost some limbs, bastard. Care to lose another fucking one? You hear that. Take a listen. We're preparing to fight against a siege. Your father's siege, to be exact. In comparison to what I've seen...I will have this battle finished within in minutes."

"Oh, really?" Ramsay mused, gifting him a snarling grin. "And how do you plan to do that?"

Jon ignored him, giving him a rough shove so that he fell to his knees beside Mors Umber and Smalljon. Jon marches along Winterfell's castle wall until he comes to a stop beside Aegon who was staring down at the army marching for the gates. _Red Jon,_ for a mere moment he does not see a young man at his side, he sees a young boy desperate to sail the seas and discover new found lands with him and his crew. As a lad, Aegon had called him Red Jon before his red hair had started to grow white and all he could do was frown, taking in the boy's ever hardening features. _A boy playing at war,_ he thought. _A war we started._

"You want war," Jon muttered. "You have been given a war. You must defend Winterfell. If Winterfell falls to House Bolton...We will lose."

"I have been arrogant as of late..." Aegon responds. "What have I done, Jon? Have I condemned innocent men to their deaths?"

"You have brought us to dance with the Stranger," He informed him. "Now face it, Aegon. You are no longer a child. You are a man now. A man who must face the consequences of his actions. Men will die on this night but the men fighting for Winterfell. The men fighting for _you_...You make them proud to face death. A death in battle is the greatest death a man can have-"

"No," Aegon denies, causing him to frown. "The greatest death a man can have is dying for those he loves. Is that not the best way to go? If I had to die...I will die knowing that I rid our world from some of the evils and saved you. You are all I have ever known, Jon Connington. The Shy Maid was and always will be _my_ home along with the crew. We _are_ family. You. Me. Haldon. Rolly. Lemore. Yandry and Ysilla. Even that damned bird of Rolly's that kept pecking me before the sun even rose. We may not share blood but we share a bond that can _never_ be broken. You are my _father_. I have seen our promised future! I've seen it since I could dream. I am the change Westeros needs. We are the change."

"How so, lad?" Haldon asks, approaching them with a raised brow.

"Is it like the heroes?" Rolly chimed in, lips curling into a smile.

"I taught you to read, boy!" Jon interrupts, a gruffness to his voice. "The Age of Heroes. Those heroes suffered fates worse than death."

"Aegon Targaryen," A cold voice hissed, causing him to stiffen as he looked down to the gates. "I want my son."

 _Ugly bastard,_ Jon remarks to himself as he stares at Roose Bolton and then to a smirking Ramsay. _I can see the fucking resemblance now._ The pale, beardless man stared up at them with cold, calculating eyes that were paler than the ice surrounding Winterfell. The man's dressed in dark armour with leather resembling the colour of blood adorning him. He noticed some of his men shift in discomfort while others let out snarls or growls when they noticed the pink woollen cloaks that the armed men were wearing and noticed the shields had human heads painted on them with their faces flayed and mouths open in what looked to be utter agony. He watches as Mors Umber forces Ramsay to stand, he and various other men hoisting the weakened man over the wall so that his father could examine him. Roose raised a brow, staring at them impassively before a soft sneer made its way onto his features.

"No," Aegon retorts. "You have nothing to bargain with."

"Is that all, _boy?_ " Roose demanded. "I will give you a choice hand over Winterfell or I will strike you down."

" _Boy_? Is that supposed to be some sort of insult?" Aegon retaliated with a fierceness that could rival any dragon, letting out a small chuckle. "How many times must I say that I will not hand over Winterfell before you understand? You can live in my new world, Roose Bolton _or_ you and your son can _die_ in your old one? I am Aegon of the House Targaryen, I am the son of the Dragon. I am unbowed, unbent and unbroken."

Jon raised his brows, taken aback by the unusual fierce tone to Aegon's voice. It was a strange feeling, looking at the man that was once his boy defending a castle. A boy that has grown knowing nothing but sea and sand. Living impoverished on a ship, living on their dreams of retaking Westeros and avenging House Targaryen. _I don't believe in many things,_ Jon thought as he stared at the silver haired lad in wonder. _But I do believe in you._

 _"_ Jon..." Aegon murmured, his eyes never leaving the angered Roose Bolton as he began to shout commands to his men. "It's time."

* * *

Young Griff

The castle shakes when rocks of flame are launched over the castle walls and the Bolton army begins to ram against the gates. Aegon stares down, examining the soldiers that were large in number. In the dark of night, it sounded as if it were animals fighting as men snarled, growled and roared their battle cries. Above them, he could hear Ramsay laugh hysterically but he paid him no mind as he loaded his bow and turned to face Ser Jon, watching the man's face harden as he looked out towards the men.

"Indeed it is," Jon replies. "It is time for war but what is our plan? Do you even have one?"

"I will end the lives of House Bolton. I will flay Roose and Ramsay Bolton. I will kill every last one of their soldiers," Stated Aegon, his grip tightening on his bow as another explosion rumbled the castle. He watched over his men as they attempted to douse out the flames but all he could do was stare at them in a trance, watching them dance within the wind that was picking up. "I will march for the Wall and while doing so, I will set Dreadfort aflame and I will watch as it turns to ash."

"Your mother nor father would approve," Jon grunted, grimacing as another boulder set aflame is thrown over the castle walls. "Did you know what the Mad King's plans were when there were armies at his gates? The Mad King was aroused with fire. It brought him great pleasure to see people _burn_. Men...Women... _Children_...He did not care. King Aerys burned whoever he pleased simply because he was _King_. He could do whatever he wished to whoever. As much as I hate Lannister's...Jaime Lannister did Westeros a service. He saved King's Landing. Your grandfather is remembered as a tyrannical, mad bastard and everyone curses his name. You will not be the same."

"It isn't the same-"

"It is," Jon interrupts. "You talk about setting things on fire. He talked about setting things on fire. I do not believe in many things but I _believe_ in _you_. Do what is right."

Aegon gave a small nod, staring at the fire that was dying out before he turned to face his men who were staring at him, waiting for a command. The words of Jon urged him forward as he gripped his bow and twirled an arrow in his hand. The thought of keeping Winterfell and crushing House Bolton filled him with eagerness and he could not help but take pleasure in the thought of killing the Bolton's. This siege was not his first and it would not be his last. At the signal of his hand, he had his archers line up around the walls, taking their stance and aimed for the soldiers below them.

" _For the Starks!"_ Aegon shouted. " _Fire!"_

 _I will show them the true meaning of fire and blood when I'm done with them,_ Aegon thought as he watched as the arrows were let loose and sent flying through the air towards the men below them. He watched in satisfaction as some men fell but called orders for them to fire once more. Nock, draw and loose. The arrows were sent raining down upon the Bolton soldiers causing some of the soldiers to fall but he knew no amount of arrows could stop them from getting passed the gates. The archers in line with him set another series of arrows loose. Aegon handed his bow over to Haldon as he unsheathes his longsword and raised it in the air. The sword glinted underneath the pale light of the moon.

" _For the North!_ " The riled up men roared.

"Let them in!" Young Griff commanded, looking to the guards. "Let's show them what we're worth!"

The Lords of House Umber were the first to charge into the battle, thundering down the steps of the tower that Aegon was certain that they were shaking with their roars. Just as the gates were lowered, Mors Umber threw himself into the battle as he collided with several men and knocked heads off with a swing of his axe. The fighting started at the gate and spread quickly like wildfire. All the while, Roose sat upon his horse staring up at him with hatred in his cold eyes. A small smirk appeared on Young Griff's face but as he turned to face his archers, Ramsay lunged at him causing him to fall over the wall but he managed to grasp Ramsay's tunic and pulled him over.

 _This is what it must feel like to fly,_ Aegon thought for a mere moment before he landed on the men below them and let out a pained yell when he heard a sickening crack. At first, he thought it came from the men he fell on but then came the _utter_ agony he felt afterwards. The pain spread through his chest, knocking the air from him as he tried to breathe but all he could do was gasp, his mouth opening and closing like a fish desperate to breathe. All he could hear was chiming bells in his ears above the noise of steel clashing against steel and feet on the ground.

With each slow movement, it pained him but he scrambled over the dead men and rose to his knees, thankful that he wasn't dead. Although he still struggled to breathe and his right foot was no doubt twisted, he limped to his feet and took in his surroundings, peering through the fog that had developed for Ramsay and Roose. _If I live,_ Young Griff thinks. _He still lives._

"Dragon spawn!" A voice mocked, causing him to stiffen before he turned to face the bastard of Bolton who now sat upon a horse with a sword in hand. "I think I'm up for that trial by combat now! _You_ and _me_."

Aegon bent down and gripped an axe, inhaling slowly as he stood up despite the burning pain. Aegon was better with a bow and sword than an axe or spear. It has always been this way ever since his youth. Even with his limp, Aegon let instinct take over and ran forward, concentrating on the brown horse that the bastard Bolton was sat upon. His grip tightened around the axe and in that moment, he threw it causing the axe to hurtle towards the man.

A sinister smirk appeared on Ramsay's face as he raised the shield but his smile faded when the axe struck the horse in the neck and before the bastard could realise it, the dark haired man was thrown from his horse. At first, Young Griff thought that the land would kill the already injured man but Ramsay used his shield to take the brunt of the hit and let out a frustrated hiss as he hit the ground.

Aegon yanked a nearby sword free from a slain man and took a stance, waiting for Ramsay as he struggled towards him. He watched the man's face as it broke into a sadistic smile and all he could do was stare impassively and wait for the fight to come. The moment Ramsay was near him, he swung his sword and their swords clashed. The ring that came from the steel sang a deadly song of battle. He and the bastard of Bolton circled each other and with each step taken, he did not know when the feral man would pounce at him. Nothing else mattered to Aegon now as he focused on the fight between himself and Ramsay.

"You little bastard!" Ramsay snarled.

"Speak for yourself," Young Griff retorted with a scoff.

Ramsay swung the weapon at him with a ferocity which made Aegon lunge back, his twisted ankle screaming as he stepped far back from the bastard's attack. The brutish attacks from Ramsay were growing harder to deflect with the more pain that he felt. As the dark haired man advanced towards him once again and swung his sword. Aegon's heart sped up as he brought his sword up, blocking Ramsay's powerful blow. A smirk spread across the man's bloody face and he brought his knee into his stomach causing Young Griff to drop his sword and Ramsay's head collided with his own.

Aegon closed his eyes, the world around him had gone white as he stumbled back until he found his back against the stone wall of Winterfell. He let himself rest against before looking up to see a burning torch as Ramsay lunged to end his life, he reached into the flame and grasped a handful of ash and chucked it towards Ramsay's face. The man let out a guttural sound as the ash blinded him. He dropped his sword, stumbling back as he clutched his face allowing Aegon to jump him, tackling the man to the ground.

"Come on, lads!" Roared Jon, which made Young Griff's lips twist into a smile. "Look at them! They're falling back!"

"That..." Ramsay trailed off, opening his bloodshot eyes and looked at him with a maddened gleam. "Wasn't _playing_ by the rules, _boy_."

"You made the first move, bastard," Aegon said with shrug, grimacing when he felt the pain crawl up his arm. "I was taking my turn."

Aegon straddles him, a sudden fierceness overtaking him as he grabs a large rock nearby and bashes it against his face. He continues to do so, letting out the aggression he had until the man's face become beaten and unrecognisable. The sharp rock was covered in crimson blood and pieces of flesh and bone was stuck to it. Aegon's wiped his blood covered face with the back of his hand and looked up from the bastard of Bolton and met the eyes of Roose Bolton. The man stared at the rock in his hand with widening eyes before trailing down to his son with a cold stare. All around him Bolton soldiers were running from Winterfell and passed Roose Bolton.

"Retreat!" Came voices.

" _Stay and fight!_ " Roose growled, prowling towards the gates of Winterfell but many of his men dragged him back. "Stay and fight!"

Aegon hears laughter and looks down at Ramsay with a cold glare, the man cracks open an eye and gifts him a bloody smile. Young Griff raises the rock and brings it harder down on the man's face. Again and again, he brings the rock down on the man's head until he stops moving. The laughter remains in his ears as he stiffens, letting the rock drop from his vice-like grip and he remains atop of Ramsay, staring down at the face he caved in. Before letting his eyes trail towards the victorious men, watching as they celebrated the failed siege. _This is their first taste of victory since the death of Robb Stark,_ he thought. _Their hope._

The sound of Ramsay Bolton's death was announced by the caw of the crows that were flocking towards the corpses that had not yet gone cold. _Fire,_ the crow's seemed to sing. _Fire. Fire._ The Bolton soldiers lost heart on seeing the death of the bastard. The footmen turned and fled from Winterfell and those that were trapped in the yard, dropped to their knees and surrendered themselves. Aegon raised his head, letting out a long, harrowing scream to let out all the pain he felt before he slumped to the ground, exhaustion claiming him as did the pull of sleep.

* * *

 _I must be dead,_ Aegon thought as he took in his strange surroundings with confusion. No longer did his bones ache and he could breathe much better than he did. _Or am I dreaming?_ He was no stranger to the dreams of the beautiful she wolf or the dragon dreams that sometimes plagued him. This felt different. All around him was snow and a fog that rolled towards him like it did the sea during the earliest hours of the morning before the sun rose. He took a step forward, taking in ice covered forest around him. The fog rippled before calming once again when he stilled. Young Griff's eyes narrowed, seeing shadows move far ahead of him.

"Aegon Targaryen," A husky yet feminine said causing him to stiffen as the figure emerged from the fog. "I have been longing to meet you."

"Are you death?" Aegon inquired, raising a brow at the laughter that came after his question.

"No," The woman responded. "I am known as Quaithe."

His breath hitched when he heard her voice at the side of his ear, causing him to turn around and when he did, he sucked in a sharp breath. The woman was strange to look at if she was even a woman at all behind that red mask that appeared to be made of wood. All he could see was her wet brown eyes that seemed all too familiar and purple lips. She wore a black dress with a hood that covered her hair but that was not the strangest thing about the woman.

It was the _bird_. In all his years, he had not seen such a beautiful bird. The bird was redder than what Jon Connington's hair once was. At first glance, he would have guessed that the bird was a peacock but when he noticed the sharpness of its beak and the grey of its eyes, he could not help but grow suspicious. The bird curled around the woman as if she was its master.

"It's a beautiful bird, is it not?" The woman hummed, taking notice of his staring as she stroked the bird's beak causing it to make a small coo. "I am sure that you find the she wolf far more beautiful, do you not?"

"How do you know her?" Aegon demanded, taking in the bird's feathers that appeared to be _glowing_ in the darkness.

"I know of many things," Quaithe mused. "Yet...You know _nothing_."

"And what things would that be?" He drawled. "Why did you bring me here?"

Unknowingly, he had stepped closer to her and the bird. The bird that reminded him of fire had pulled him far closer than he wanted. The hidden woman did not respond and instead motioned for him to come closer which he did with reluctance. The fog parted before them as they made their way through the woods. It was as if she could control the fog and shadows. The red masked woman led him to the entrance of cave made of ice and rock and then turned to him, watching him with care.

"The battle for dawn draws near," The woman murmured. "And we must win this war, Aegon Targaryen. If we do not, all will be lost. We will die. I pity you, summer child. All you have ever known is _fire_. I pity you and all the children born of summer. You have found the children born of winter. The Northerners. You must now find the child born of fire and ice. You must find them. I have seen the world end in fire and ice. You are but a grain in the sands of time. A fleeting moment. But nevertheless an important moment. You must become the three headed dragon. The horn of winter must be sounded."

"Who is the child of fire and ice?" Aegon asked, his brows furrowing as he stared at the bird that took off from the woman's shoulder. "Where can I find them then?"

"We have inherited the world," Quaithe told him, clasping her hands together beneath her robes as she turned to look at him. "Aegon Targaryen."

His mouth became agape when he noticed a woman emerge from the cave. _Lysara,_ he thought as his purple met her grey. The darkened cave had lightened with fire as she emerged from it and he watched as smoke rolled out of it like the sea washes against the sand. In this light, he has never seen something more beautiful. He could have sworn that the necklace around her long pale neck was glowing with power like the grey eyes that laid his soul bare. Lysara's curved figure clung to the dress of crimson and in her hands she held a white horn with intricate patterns. A hint of a smirk was given to him before she raised it to her lips and when she blew the horn, it brought a chill down his spine and he was certain the sound of shrieking and ice cracking made his ears bleed.

"Lysara..." He trailed off, staring at her in wonder.

"Nēdenka dāez run," The woman informs him. "The fierce, free thing. The fire bird. The _phoenix._ You are to awaken soon. I can sense it. The hold I have is slipping."

"Will I ever meet her?" Aegon murmured. "Will I ever meet Lysara?"

"Yes. You will meet her soon. There is a war coming, Aegon, the war will come when the three headed dragon is in Westeros. You must bring the Stark girl back to Winterfell," Quaithe commands. "There _must_ be a Stark in Winterfell for the war to come. For the war against winter. Lysara Stark must sound the horn of winter. If she does not, we will perish. The girl knows...I can sense it. She knows of her future. She will want to run with wolves but she must fly with dragons. He knows too. He knows that she is after the horn. It is a race for the Horn of Winter, a battle for dawn and a war against the darkness. You must make haste to winter."

* * *

Author's Note: Hi, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you have any questions, feel free to ask and I will happily answer them. I would like to thank all of you for making this story one of your favourites, following and for reading this story. I would like to give massive thanks to everyone that has left a review, I always enjoy reading them and the next update should be up soon!

Reviews-

RHatch89: Thanks, I hope you liked this chapter!

12345678910: Thank you!

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you, hopefully, you liked this chapter! I can't reveal what he said yet but it will come to light in the next few chapters.

EMILCE CULLEN-VULTURI: Gracias!

CrystalVixen93: Thank you, I'm glad you like this story and I hope you like this chapter!

Saint River: There will be a lot more lore about what lies beyond the Wall in the next couple of chapters. Lysara is a character that will make a lot of good points and a lot of bad points but she does test everyone. As she tested Stannis, she will test Aegon as well when they do meet. I wanted to go more into Jon Connington and I hope you liked his pov in this chapter although it was a small one but there will be more of him soon.

Arianna Le Fay: Thank you, I can say that in the next couple of chapters, Lysara and Aegon will meet soon but for now they just know each other from their shared dreams.

celticank: Thank you, I hope you like this chapter!

Guest: It's alright, I think it's a good thing that Lysara will be a character who will do things that the readers won't necessarily like. Lysara is a character that likes to have her own opinions and has a sort of fierce protection about her opinions and views even if they aren't the right or good ones. I can't tell you the fate of Stannis yet but I can say that he and Aegon will not meet on good terms.


	29. Chapter Twenty Eight

_The Wall_

Lysara Stark

Lysara woke to the sound of Wild Wolf's howling. With closed eyes, her fingers stretched out, seeking to caress the babe's cheek but instead she was met with a warmth at her side. She propped herself up on one elbow, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to gaze down at the small girl curled up at her side. There is enough light for her to see several small children curled about at her side, cocooned in furs. In sleep, the children were peaceful but she could see them start to stir from the wailing of the babe that was growing louder with each moment that passed. Resting at her feet, as if he was guarding her, was Ghost.

Lysara reached over and rubbed Ghost's ears as he huffed small breaths before she sat up, looking down at the babe wriggling underneath the furs in the basket he slept in. Her lips quirked into a small smile as she scooped him up into her arms, letting his head rest on her shoulder as she cradled him, wrapping her furs around both of them to keep him warm. His sobbing quietened as he looked up at her with shining eyes, filled with such curiosity that she couldn't help but wonder what he must think. _I wonder what you must think of me?_ Lysara asks. _Am I a terrible, red thing to you?_

"Hush," Lysara murmured, her voice soft like the gentle sway of the wind. "Do not wake them. Let them dream, my wolf."

"Fire bird," A girl child called from her side.

The small girl underneath her bundle of furs was not even four name days old and was seemingly nameless but Lysara had taken to calling the girl _Raven_. The girl's parents had both fell during the Black Battle, so none of the Free Folk knew for certain on who she was or what she meant to be named. The girl sat up and Lysara could not help but smile when she watched a raven coloured man of wild hair bounce with the girl's movements. The girl reminded her of Arya when she was around that age and the sound of the girl's belly growling made her stare on with fondness, letting a small laugh escape her lips as the girl looked up at her with pleading dark brown eyes.

"It's alright," Lysara reassured. "I'll make your porridge and get a fire going."

As she stood up, she took in the camp and noticed it began to wake as the sun started to rise in the grey sky, making shadows dance over their camp and creating a stir with the Free Folk. She rocked the babe in her arms, holding him to her as she made her way towards the bags that contained oats and dried nuts for the porridge. The days were getting shorter and the nights were getting longer, just as she feared.

When no one was looking or when she felt alone, Lysara would stare into the flames for hours on end and wondered when the true war was coming. She would let the flames dance on her hands, expecting to feel pain and for her skin to blister and burn at any given moment but she felt _nothing_. _Why do I dance with flames?_ She often finds herself asking R'hllor. _What plans do you have for me? What role will I possess in the war to come?_

She approached the large pot and started the fire with little to no effort. It grew far more difficult to be away from the fire as it called to her. _Dance,_ the flames seemed to beckon her with a small encouraging hiss. _Dance._ Yet all the times she refused to do its bidding, it felt as if two hands were gripping her throat. Lysara bent down beside the pot, tightening her hold on the babe as she gathered fresh snow for the porridge and put it into the large pot along with the oats and nuts.

Food was growing scarce since Stannis's attack. There was no more milk for the Wildling children. As she brought the wooden spoon into the pot, the hag crept towards her with a bowl in her shaking hands. While she stirred the meal, the Wildling witch grew closer causing Ghost to growl low in his throat, baring his teeth towards the woman as a warning.

"Enough," Lysara ordered.

"Ah," Yrna breathed, her lips twitching up from glee as she turned towards the direwolf who whined low in his throat. "Even while he sleeps, Lord Snow still protects you."

"Here," She said softly, flicking three large spoonfuls of the porridge into the bowl and handed it to the child. "Make sure it is eaten, girl."

"Thank you," The girl said, gripping the bowl with two dainty hands as she raised the bowl to her lips.

Lysara kept Wild Wolf to her chest, hushing him as he continued sobbed. She wasn't sure of what to do with him or how to settle his wailing, she tensed a considerable amount when she noticed the stares given in her direction. Lysara wrapped herself up in a dark bear skin, rocking him as she trailed passed Yrna towards the edge of the woods where the Weirwood tree lies. The walk was not far but the Wildling Prince did not calm until she approached the tree.

She stared at it in apprehension, hearing the threatening whispers from the wind as the crimson leaves moved with the wind and the shadows danced across the face that was carved into the white tree. _Are you with me father?_ Lysara wondered, staring at the tree in confliction as she let her hand rest upon the rough bark. She heard the snow crunch behind her, causing her to stiffen as the presence grew closer and as she turned, a small smile appeared on her face when she was met with Ghost. The direwolf tilted his head to the side, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he listened to the strange noise coming from the babe in her arms.

"You truly are beautiful," Lysara murmured, cradling him against her body. He nuzzled his small head into her shoulder, grasping her dark locks as he continued to stare at her with nothing but contentment in his eyes. It was strange to be stared at like that, the last to ever stare at her with such adoration was Rickon and he was lost to her now. As Bran and Robb were. As her sisters were. As her father and mother were. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, her nails digging into the bark of the white tree as she stared ahead at the Wall that loomed over her. "I will not let Stannis hurt you. I promise. I will set the whole world alight if he tries to."

As she stared at the direwolf who began to howl a mournful song, she could feel tears gather in her eyes. _I wish I could weep like you,_ Lysara thought with nothing but envy as she stared down at the Wildling Prince. _It easy for you, you're just a babe and I am a woman grown._ Lysara longed for her lost childhood, for when her father would wrap his arms around her and hoist her onto his shoulders or when her mother would braid her hair and kiss her goodnight before she went to sleep. Lysara longed for the comfort of her mother and father. _I wish I could make foolish mistakes,_ she thought with a small sigh and let herself slump against the tree, closing her heavy eyes in exhaustion. _I wish I could see my mother and father again, I would kiss their cheeks and tell them I'm sorry,_ she prayed as a small sob escaped her throat. _They don't even have to stay for long. I just wanted to see them one last time. Just for a little while. That's all._

"You dote on the Wildling Prince," A voice said from behind her, causing her to still when Ghost began to growl and snarl, snapping his jaws threateningly as his hackles raised. "You have made a foolish mistake."

" _Have I?_ " Lysara challenged, raising a brow as she stared ahead. "I have made a lot of mistakes but he isn't one of them."

Lysara turned to face the woman in red, her face growing impassive as she stared at the woman. The shadows seemed to caress the woman as the fire did her. The woman was beautiful as her visions in the flames but there was a darkness shrouding the woman's heart. _It seems she gifted me this dress,_ Lysara remarked to herself as she looked at the woman's crimson frock and noticed that the dresses were of a similar fashion. She tightened her hold on the boy, staring at the woman in apprehension. Ghost's growling grew fiercer as the woman took a step forward towards her, causing her to take a step back in suspicion. _Where the Red Lady is,_ Lysara thought. _Stannis is not far behind._

"It is truly a sight to behold," Melisandre breathed, reaching to grip her chin as she stared at her with wide eyes. "You can dance with flames. You are the child of _fire_. R'hllor has awaited the birth of all his servants but none more so than you. You were cold, _so_ cold but the Lord of Light brought Joroquo to the North and there he met _you._ He was our High Priest. I have known him since I was a child when he broke the chains from my wrists and freed me. Before his passing, he talked of nothing but the wolf girl he breathed the fire of our Lord into. _You._ I have been longing to meet you, Lysara of the North."

"I have been longing to speak with you," Lysara nodded, clutching the Wildling Prince to her. "You and I both know what events would unfold after our meeting."

"Lysara," The familiar voice of Jon called, causing her to look over her shoulder to see Jon standing there, his eyes darkening as he stared at the woman in disdain. His hand was resting on Longclaw and she knew with Ghost snarling, he would be prepared to draw it at any given movement if he felt she was in danger. She gave him a hard stare before turning to face Lady Melisandre, the woman's grip remaining tight on her chin as her other finger trailed down her cheek. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," She answered with sincerity. "I will be fine. I wish to speak with Melisandre alone."

"I'll take the babe with me," Jon informed her, taking the babe out of her grip. He bundled the Wildling Prince up in his black furs, his lips quirking into a small but awkward smile as he stared down at the cooing babe. A look shared between her and Jon was all it took for him to know that she wanted the babe nowhere near the Red woman. Jon glanced at both her and Melisandre, staring at her with hesitation before he began to walk away with a wariness in his step. "Look after her, Ghost. I will be in the Wildling camp, I need to speak with Mance and then I need to speak with you...It is about Winterfell."

"Look after him," Lysara said, casting a final glance at them before she turned to face Melisandre who arched a brow towards her.

"You love him," Melisandre said. "You know a lot of things about our Lord. The flames of the hearth have taught you well, my Lady. Yet, I still believe that Joroquo made a grave mistake. He did not teach our ways to you. The ways of our Lord. Of R'hllor. So much potential and power and _light_ resides in your body, Lysara of the North. The power of flame will grow in time but very few have mastered it. You are a candle, barely flickering but that fire will grow. Taunted, teased and tormented. I was like you. _Once."_

"Your heart has darkened," She comments. "You have seen far more of the world than possible. I have seen the beginning of time in your eyes, Melisandre. You are not what most people think."

"Lord Snow is rather handsome, is he not?" The Red Woman questions.

"Jon is _my_ brother," Lysara retaliates.

"The Targaryen's married brother and sister," Melisandre informed her. "The people of Westeros did not care for it nor did our Lord. The union was _pure._ It had nothing but light. The Lord of Light made us male and female. We become two parts of a greater whole. When we join together, we hold the power. The power to make life. The power to make light and love. The power to cast shadows. The power to create _fire_. Come with us and we will chase those believers of the false Gods out of your home."

"Love is love," Lysara responds, she reaches over and grasps Melisandre's wrist, letting the woman's hand rest on her beating chest as it rose and fell with each breath she took. "I may not know a lot of things but I do know somethings and I do know that our Lord has nothing to do with who we love. It is our beating hearts that choose for us. Feel it. _This_ is true power. The purest of its kind. We all possess power. Our will is our power. We all have a will. We all make choices."

"I have seen you many times in the flames. As I grew older, I used to sit and watch the flames dance and how I wished to dance with them but my hands would blacken and blister as I burned. You do not," Lady Melisandre said, a smirk adorning her face as she stared at her. "We are not enemies. I consider us as sisters. Two beings that possess our Lord's light. Two beings that can become one. I would very much like to witness you dance with the flames."

"What have the flames shown?" She asked, quirking a brow towards the smirking woman who had backed her up against the tree.

"Many things," The red haired woman breathed, growing closer to her. "Both past and future."

"And how does my story end?" Lysara questions, staring deep into the woman's eyes.

"How does _our_ story end," Melisandre smiles. "It doesn't. There cannot be light without darkness. I will show you the truth."

" _Show me_ ," Lysara murmured, her voice deep and breathless.

Melisandre smile remained but her smile did not reach her dark eyes, the woman reached out and caressed her face with the back of her hand, trailing her long fingers down her cheek before she tilted her head and pressed her lips against her own. She let out a small gasp, trying to pull away but something had caused her to stiffen as she let her back rest against the white bark. Her once wide and surprised eyes were now closing as her lips moved with Melisandre's. The woman's hand gripped her breast tighter and when the woman let her hand rest on her heart that was beating against her chest, her entire being was filled with pain that it brought tears to her eyes. It felt as if Melisandre had pulled her skin from the bone and was digging her talon nails into her heart.

The whispers that were once soft and meek were now roaring in her ears, the words of both men and women alike hammering into her head that it brought her blinding pain. She had not felt such pain as she did at this moment and when her lips parted to let out a scream, she fell to her knees but fell into the arms of Lady Melisandre. She clenched her eyes shut, listening to the blood curdling screams echo as tears slid down her cheeks. The woman pulled away, caressing her hair as she pressed an almost tender kiss to her lips.

"Do not worry," Melisandre mused, continuing to caress her cheek as her vision darkened but the screams still remained. "It will be over soon but you must know the truth. The truth of _your_ blood."

* * *

As she staggered to her feet, she glanced around with wide and panicked eyes while she fought against the howling winter wind. The wind reminded her of Ghost when he howled into the long and dark night but this was different. She felt _different_. This was not like her normal dreams, she did not feel alone in this dream. In fact, she was certain that someone was watching her movement. _How did I get here?_ Lysara wondered, her brows furrowing as she tried to remember what had happened. Lysara wasn't sure how she ended up in face down in snow or even where she was. _I am North of the Wall,_ she notes to herself as she takes in nothing but snow and darkness surrounding her. _Is this the long night?_

She could hear the screaming still as it remained in her ears, she still heard it, though it sounded miles from where she was and she felt nothing but dread when the screams fell silent and she was left in a deathly still woods with nothing but the dead trees in front of her and the snow below her and the darkness above her. No moon or stars graced the sky, bringing a shiver down her back as she brushed off the snow on her crimson dress.

There was an unsettling calmness that had grown after the silence that made her start to walk through the woods, compelled to head further North. She did not know how far she wondered but she came to a stop upon finding an entrance to a lit cave. Lysara gripped the skirts of her dress, climbing up the ice covered rocks. Her toes curled in her leather boots to give her some sense of sureness as she entered the cave.

As she entered, she was stunned silent upon finding a large chamber, two pillars of pouncing wolves seemed to prevent the cave from collapsing in on itself. _Magnificent,_ Lysara thought with widening eyes as she took in the runes and the torches that lit the rock chamber. A stiff man was resting against a pillar and she made her way towards him, the only sound was her feet hitting off against stone. A few small rocks crumbled here and there as she walked towards the man and once she knelt beside him, she had to stifle a gasp as she noticed another man was kneeling next to him. _Father,_ she thought. _He looks like father._ The bearded man looked up, peering at her for a moment or so before looking back down at the man and gripped his hand. _Can he see me?_ Lysara thought.

"He will not wake, Brandon," An impassive voice spoke, snapping her from the entrancement that the man seemed to have on her.

"This was _your_ doing," The man, Brandon hissed with such fury. "The attacks on our people. I trusted you...How could I have been so _blind_."

Although she could not see the man speaking to Brandon, she could feel his overwhelmingly dark presence that it almost choked her. The power radiating off the man was wrapping itself around her throat, preventing her from breathing with its iron like grip. _Who is this man?_ Lysara wondered. _Who are these men?_ Brandon continued to speak to the man but it fell on deaf ears as she listened to a sorrowful song that began to enter the cave. The ethereal singing was soothing to her and as she turned towards the entrance of the cave, a crimson fire flew above her. The fire danced in the cave before it perched beside Brandon. The fire died down and from the ash emerged a bird with long feathers and a sharp beak but it had striking eyes that reminded her of her own.

"The firebird," The cold man breathed. "At last...At _long_ last."

"It is a demon!" Brandon roared, rising to his feet as he drew his sword and pointed it at the man. "As are you, _brother_."

"You never knew what it was like," The robed man, Brandon's brother whispered as he withdrew his sword and she watched in amazement as it became alight from fire. "You never knew what it was like to be cast aside because of what I was. Because of who I was. For all those years, I was _ashamed_ of what I was and what I was born to be. Having to _hide_ who I was. I was whipped and beaten. But with each stroke from the whip, it made me _stronger._ Winter is coming, brother. And so...Now the war begins."

"No," Brandon sighs, staring at him with sorrowful eyes. "Now it ends. As long as I breathe air, _winter_ will _never_ come. I will build a wall, higher than the mountains...If I must to keep _them_ out."

 _Brandon the Builder,_ Lysara thinks to herself as she comes to the realisation. She was standing in front of the founder of House Stark, the builder of the Wall and the drinker of the fire bird's blood. She scrambled back as the men clashed as soon as Brandon had said this. Brandon sent his sword spinning, dancing with his sword as he weaved around the robed man. Turning, Brandon's lips pursed into a snarl before lunged at the man. He charged at the man, his greatsword slicing through the air and when it was brought down, the hooded man dodged it with little to no effort.

"You had our sister slaughtered!" Brandon growled, sounding more wolf than man as he lunged for the man once again. "We were her brothers and we were meant to _protect_ her!"

The man in the black cloak charged at Brandon with his sword raised high in the air, ready to bring it down with a powerful strike. However, Brandon the Builder stumbled out of the way. Despite moving behind the cloaked man, the man swung his sword around, hoping to strike Brandon but he missed. Strike and miss. Miss and strike. It became a deadly dance that she could not look away from until the cloaked man drove his sword Brandon causing the man to still and drop his sword. Brandon collapses to his knees, clutching his wounded side before he falls to the ground. The hooded man seems to give a nod in satisfaction before a darkness surrounds her and Brandon the Builder. _R'hllor,_ she wonders. _Why are showing me this?_

"No!" Lysara shouted, scrambling towards the man. " _No_..."

A crimson bird passed her, a soft clatter of claws giving noise to the silent cave. She watched in confusion as the bird laid its beautiful head on the spot where Brandon had been stabbed. The man reached out with a shaking hand and stroked its head with a soft look in his pained grey eyes. He let out an almost maddening laugh as he threw his head back, his booming laughter growing louder causing her to frown. _Perhaps this is where I get my madness from?_ Lysara thought.

"Good girl," Brandon whispered, stroking the bird's head. "We fooled him...I'm sorry girl."

 _Sorry?_ Lysara thought, her eyes widening when he slowly slid a knife from between his sleeve and stabbed the bird. The bird let out a horrifying screech that seemed to shake the cave as the bird spread its wings wide and flew off. The fire bird soared overhead, letting out a heartbreaking song that brought her to tears. _What is he doing?_ The voice of Yrna seemed to hiss in the back of her mind as he inspected the bloodied knife before bringing it to his lips. She shook her head in denial and watched in horror as he licked the blood from the knife. A shuddering sigh left his lips before he fell unconscious.

" _It's in your blood_ ," A voice hissed in her ear, dragging talon-like nails down her face.

Lysara shot up with a jolt, her breathing ragged and her heart racing as she let out short gasps as she tried to breathe. A pair of hands cupped her face, causing her to open her eyes at the force of the hands shaking her. She looked at Jon and wrapped her arms around him, staring ahead as she shook violently in his hold as she began to sob, the song of the fire bird remaining in her mind. A chill radiated within her that not even the fire that was burning bright could warm her from.

"What did she do?" Jon demanded, holding her tight to him. "Tell me. I came back to find you...Your eyes..."

" _Blood_ ," Lysara murmured.

"Blood?" Jon repeats, giving her a perplexed stare. "What do you mean?"

" _It's in our blood_ ," She told him.

* * *

Author's Note: Hi, I hope you like this chapter. You can expect a lot more interactions with Lysara and Melisandre in the next chapters. I'd like to thank all of you for reading this story, for following and making it one of your favourites and I would like to give massive thanks to everyone who has left a review! If you have any questions feel free to ask and the next chapter should be up soon.

 _Reviews-_

ZabuzasGirl: I did put a small snippet in but this chapter completely focuses on her.

celticank: Thanks! He will find out about Jon soon enough.

12345678910: Thanks!

RHatch89: Thank you!

Saint River: There will be a lot of the plot focusing on the Horn of Winter and its purpose without giving the plot away, I can say that there will be a reason for blowing the Horn and there will be a lot of twists and turns.

Guest 1: I hope you like this chapter, I did sort of make him different from the canon but while there is some differences I did keep massive parts of his personality. Guest 2: Thank you! Lysara and Melisandre will be featured in the next chapter as well.


	30. Chapter Twenty Nine

_The Wall_

Lysara Stark

Finding herself staring ahead at the dark waters in front of her, Lysara watched the water ripple as the long boats danced bobbed near the shore. Her brows furrowed at the strange sight of the boats being filled with men of the Night's Watch and Free Folk alike, both were working together instead of fighting which brought her happiness but also a wariness. Behind her, she could hear screams and the clashing of swords, singing a deadly song of war to her. The noise caused her to stiffen before she turned, peering into the thick fog. Through both the snow and the fog, something seemed to be _riding_ with the winter winds.

Whatever was moving alongside it, brought a dread to her stomach and Lysara could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end when hundreds of bright blue stars grew closer to her. Roars and snarls met her ears, along with the stomping of horses hooves and thundering of feet. Yet, all she could see was winter itself as she stared ahead of it. After an agonising moment or so, the world around her had stilled and fell into an eerie silence that brought a chill to her. No longer could she hear the sound of a battle. All she could hear was the sound of ice cracking beneath her feet.

" _Lysara!"_

"Jon?" Lysara questioned, her brows furrowing as she tried to seek him out. " _Jon!"_

"Get to the boats!" Roared a voice that sounded all too familiar. "To the boats!"

 _Why?_ Lysara pondered. Whatever battle that had taken place as of this moment, she did not like it. She did not like the sounds of the wailing children, the terrified screams of men and women alike but most of all, Lysara did not like the inhumane growling and snarling that was heading towards her. The screaming was growing closer and louder as she walked further towards it, in a desperate search for Jon. The whispers that picked up with the wind sounded like war drums in her ears giving her a severe and near blinding pain.

The battle continued to rage on once more but this time the movement grew more panicked as the wind started to grow more powerful, the petrified screams sounded more like whispers against the roaring of the wind. Grasping at her red skirts, Lysara started to run through the fog, running for Jon as he called to her but no matter how far she ran, she could not find nor could she reach him. Lysara found herself unable to escape the winter she was entrapped in.

The watchful stars followed her as she ran but when the blizzard started to clear, Lysara stiffened when she found a man towering over her in blackened armour but that was not what struck fear into her heart. It was bright blue eyes that bore into her very own. _We meet once more,_ Lysara thought as she felt her heart beat faster and harder while letting out short gasps. The blood pounded in her ears as she stared at him. He remained silent, keeping his impassive gaze on her as he started to walk towards her. The world remained still and silent apart from the sound of his feet meeting the ice. While he grew nearer to her, the more unbearable the pain had become for her. The mere presence of the Night's King made her writhe from the agonising pain that was ravaging her.

" _Lysara!"_

Hearing Jon's screams mixing with various others, caused Lysara to look over her shoulder with tears gathering in the corners of her eyes when she saw him, standing on a boat. _He got away,_ she thought as a sob of relief escaped her throat. _They got away._ She stood, turning to face him in terror and blinked for a moment or so, trying to rid herself of the tears that had blurred her sight and let them without a care, slide down her face.

It was when the Night's King came to stand in front of her, that Lysara became more aware of the _burning_ that was happening inside of her. It was as if she had swallowed fire and it was licking her insides, blackening her bones and making her blood boil. Unflinchingly, Lysara let herself stare back at the Night's King, watching as he unsheathed his sword while his undead army slowly encased them. There was nowhere left for her to run nor was there anywhere for her to hide.

She found herself unable and unwilling to look back at Jon as he kept screaming for her, for her to run and for her to fight. The Night's King took another step forward, tilting his head to the side as he stared at her. Terrifyingly enough, the expression on his face seemed to be one of recognition as his ice covered hands neared her as she stumbled back from him.

He noticed her stumble back and with that, he lunged at her, snatching her wrist and held it tight, digging his talon-like nails into her pale skin. The burning died down but a strange sensation replaced it instead and it started to trail down her arms. Before she could pull back, his hand became a light from the fire that was inside of her. And as his other hand attempted to seize her neck, she let out a piercing scream.

" _Lysara!_ " Urged a panicked voice. "Lysara, wake up!"

Lysara sat up with a loud gasp, all her breath was lost to her from the racing of her heart and she winced from the thunder sounded in her ears. Her tearful and tired gaze met the concerned face of Jon and with that, she wrapped her arms around him, burrowing her face into his neck. He jolted, managing to keep his balance as he accepted her embrace and put his arms around her back, pulling her tighter to his chest.

She stared ahead of him, watching the flames from the fire flicker. With a gentle push, Jon made her lie down once again and this time he came with her, letting her head rest on his shoulder as he kept his arms wrapped around her. He muttered something under his breath, holding her close before she looked up at him with a soft sigh.

"It was just a dream," Jon assured her. _I don't think it was,_ Lysara thought as she let out a shuddered breath. "You're alright."

"Do you remember when we were little-" Lysara began, absentmindedly tracing a pattern on her wrist from where the Night's King touched her. "When I was afraid of the dark and since I kept having night terrors, father put me in another chamber far from our brothers and sisters so that I wouldn't frighten them with my screaming. At first, I was lonely but I didn't mind...I was closer to your chambers. Even though mother didn't like it, I didn't care. I liked it when the castle fell silent and the day turned to night. You would come to my chambers and you'd keep me safe. You were the one that could chase the terrors away. Both the real and the dreamt. Father and mother couldn't. Nor could Maester Luwin or Old Nan. Not even Robb could do that. I-I miss it, Jon...The world was kinder to us then...What happened?"

"We should never have left Winterfell," Jon admits with a grim expression, holding her tighter. "What he did...What Theon did, had I not taken the black I would've been able to protect you. You, Bran and Rickon. Had I not taken the black, I might've been able to protect Robb. But I wanted to belong somewhere. I wanted to belong somewhere over anything else...I would've killed Theon first before he raised a hand to you. I would've killed them all..."

"You did not know what was to happen," She informed him. "Nor did I, Jon. None of us knew what would happen. There are differences between fate and destiny. But...I need to find Bran and Rickon. I need to get back to Winterfell. To our home. I don't how far I will go or how long it will take but I _will_ find them again. Tensions are rising at the Wall and it _is_ because of the Free Folk and I. Don't argue. I know it is. I see the looks that have been drawn our way. The looks given are all too familiar. I want to go _home_ , Jon but I will need the Free Folk to help me. Mance and I made a pact. If I get them beyond the Wall and if I protect his son, he will help me in my fight for Winterfell...along with our battle against the Long Night..."

"Why should I let you go back?" Jon retaliated, causing her to stiffen in his hold and she pulled herself from him and sat up, staring down at him in bewilderment as he soon sat up, returning her look with a firm stare. "Why would I want to let you go? For moons worth, I thought _you_ were dead. I thought Bran and Rickon were dead too. I thought that I had lost my little sister. I made an oath to the Night's Watch but I made an oath to our father and to our brother. When that Wildling came to the Wall, holding a piece of your dress and when I finally saw you...I thought it was a dream but then it wasn't...You're safe with me, Lysara. I won't let _anyone_ hurt you. I promise. That promise I made when we were children...The promise I made has never wavered."

"After all the terrible things I have done," Lysara begins. _And will do,_ she silently adds. "Will you forgive me?"

"There isn't anything to forgive," He said, letting out a small sigh as she sits further up on the bed, letting her feet his furs on the ground.

"Forgive me, Jon," She begs. _For what I am about to do,_ Lysara thinks to herself while her heart races faster. "Please-"

"I forgive you," Jon chuckles. "Night is still upon us. We should get back to sleep."

"You should," Lysara insists, looking over her shoulder to him. "I just need some air and by the sounds of it, so does the babe."

"It isn't safe to be out at night on your own," Jon argued, attempting to sit up but she shook her head. "Not all crows will be kind, Lysara."

"The night is dark and full of terrors, Jon Snow," She muses, casting an amused glance to him. "Although the crows may have dark wings and dark words, they are not the terrors I fear...besides I will not venture far. Good back to sleep, Jon. I will be here when you wake."

Out the corner of her eye, she watches Jon with care as his stern eyes trail over her face. Sucking in a small breath, she stares ahead of her to the dying fire and takes to standing, the bed creaked softly from the weight of her leaving the bed. The red skirts of her dress that were gathered around her thighs drift down to brush against the floor as moves towards the small fur make-shift bed that the Wildling Prince was sleeping in.

 _I'm sorry Jon,_ Lysara thought solemnly and looked in the small dirtied mirror towards her brother who was struggling to keep awake. _For now, your place is here. At the Wall. However, my place is at Winterfell. A Stark must be in Winterfell._ _If I_ _don't go back to Winterfell, none of us will be safe. Not you. Not the Free Folk. Not Bran. Not Rickon. Not Sansa. Not Arya. Not Westeros._

Lifting up the wriggling babe, she brushes the small curls that stick to his forehead from the heat of the bedchambers and wraps him in her fur cloak, letting his head rest on her chest as walks over towards the chamber door. Looking down at her frostbitten wrist, Lysara winced and with a sharp breath, she opened the chamber door and left. _Perhaps someday,_ Lysara thought as her lips fell into a frown along with her brows as she closed the chamber door behind her, silencing the shrieks of the flames that was craving her to caress them. _Not today but someday...perhaps you will forgive me, Jon._

Mindful of the deceitful ice that covered the snow, Lysara gripped the railing with shaking fingers as she walked down the steps. Seeing the Baratheon soldier on guard, situated beside the cages where some of the captured Free Folk were being held. She moved towards him, with an intent in mind. Creeping through the shadows, Lysara's face becomes impassive as she moved towards the man adorned with a burning heart on his cloak.

A beast craving blood began to take over her but what startled her was that the man turned to her, peering at her from the shadows. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she made herself known. A look of recognition adorned the man's freckled features when he took note of her red dress.

"My Lady," The man nodded, his dark brow partly raised to her.

"Ser," Lysara begins, her voice small and soft while she cradles the Wild Wolf. "It is a fine evening is it not? I thought it was the work of a crow to keep a watchful eye over the Wildlings? Soldiers should be spending their nights drinking and eating their fill with a wench at their side...to warm their bed, is that not the truth? Yet, Ser-"

"Eoin," The soldier informs her. "The name's Eoin, my Lady."

" _Eoin_ ," She repeats, her voice a low hum as a smirk makes itself known on her face. "That is a strong name. You must strong for having survived the War of Kings. Not a lot of men have, Ser."

"Do you wish for me to escort you back to your chambers?" Eoin asked, his green eyes settling on the rise and fall of her breasts but he seems to ignore the settled babe in her arms.

"No, I am alright. However, I came upon you and noticed it must be tiring to stand there..." Lysara trails off. "You don't even know what the fight is for, do you? The fight for dawn?"

"You're one of those red witches," The dark haired said, giving her a hesitant glance as she grew closer until her face was near his own. That he could feel her warm breath on his lips. The man's eyes fluttered slightly as she backed him up against the bars of the cells. "Forgive me, my Lady. I must get back to my duties. King Stannis does not take to those who abandon their posts...even for a w-woman. I hope you understand, Lady Stark but I do not believe in a witch's magic."

" _Feel,_ " Lysara insisted, taking his cold hand in her own and let it cup her left breast. "No magic involved. Just _life._ You can feel my heart, can you not? _Feel_ how it races. You can resist me but I cannot resist you, _Eoin._ You look like a man I once loved, _dearly._ His name was Jory, Jory Cassel. He was meant to come back to Winterfell and marry me...but a lion took his life. We made love. He took my maidenhead and in turn, I took his heart. When we were together, it made me feel _powerful-"_ She paused, reaching up to lightly bite his right ear as she stares ahead of her. Trembling underneath her touch, she smirked at the back of his head. "Can you make me feel powerful, Eoin?"

"I shouldn't, my Lady..." The man breathes. "I don't think Lord Snow would like that."

"Then it will be our secret," Lysara murmurs, he made an attempt to push her away but she refused. "No, I want to look on your face.

"Why would-" Just then, an arm came from behind the cell and wrapped around his throat, their grip tight and cruel to silence his choking shouts.

Taking a few steps back, she paid no mind to his cries and continued to cradle Wild Wolf, not looking up from him. The moment his choked shouts stopped and he slumped to the ground, she knew that he was dead and they would have to make haste if they wanted to leave with their lives.

Holding Wild Wolf tight to her, she walked over towards the cell, meeting the eyes of the raven-haired Frenya, one of the spearwives. The woman wore a proud smirk on her face while the red-haired Myrtle knelt down and began to search the man's body roughly, looking for the keys.

"About damned time," Cursed one of the burly men. "We have been waiting for this."

"We do not have much time," Lysara pointed out. "I had to plan an exact moment. I have been watching and waiting."

"It's the perfect time to attack!" Growled the lithe man next to the bearded one.

"No," She said, her voice hushed as she leant against their cell. "I will keep them distracted while Mance attacks the Wall. You have waited long enough."

"What about that crow brother of yours?" Willow Witch-Eye inquired.

"I have to go home now," Came her quiet response, taking the keys from Myrtle and begins to unlock the door, the keys rattling in the anticipated silence as she opened the cell. Once the cell was opened, the twelve Wildlings that were trapped in it were now freed. Passing Wild Wolf to Myrtle, she turns to face the dark-haired Willow once more. "I have to retake Winterfell and once I do, I will find Bran and Rickon. What I must do...keep Wild Wolf safe for me. Now, _leave_. The rest of the Free Folk are on the outskirts of the woods near the Wall. Their camp is lit. I received word from Val-"

"And?" The burly man demanded.

"They are waiting," Lysara informed them, her voice hurried as she took the dagger hidden in her sleeve and ripped into the material of her dress, ripping off a part of her right sleeve and passed the silk to him. " _Here_. Take this to him. It will let him know I have kept my side of the promise...he has to keep his. _Go_. I can hear the crows arriving."

"What about _you_?" Questioned a panicked woman. "You can't fight. Your arms are skinnier and weaker than sparrow legs!"

" _Who's down there?"_ A vicious snarl came from above along with the thundering of feet.

" _Go!"_ Lysara hissed, giving Thorn a harsh shove towards Myrtle as she was passed a torch. "Now!"

Grasping the torch in her hand, Lysara cast one last longing look towards the babe resting in the arms of the spearwife before she fled down the corridor. At first, she thought of turning back and returning to Jon's chambers but she knew it was something she must do. If she did not do this, she would be left with no home and no siblings. It reminded her of the time before she found the Lord's light. She was a child, alone and frightened. But this time was different, she was not a frightened child.

Not anymore.

The light that illuminated the corridor in an eerie and chilling orange glow, brought her nothing but discomfort. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end when she heard the footsteps come up behind her but she did not have time to react. It wasn't a Wildling that was following her. The large man grabbed her from behind, covering her mouth with a callused hand. Grabbing a hold of her wrist, she dropped the torch and the light died the moment it hit the wet and cold ground. There was no point in screaming or struggling, Lysara knew he was strong but she would do what she did best. She would _wait._

"Don't scream red _whore_ ," The man snarled, placing the cold blade of a knife against her throat. "Or I will give you a red smile to match that pretty red dress of yours. They say the Northern Witch, Lysara _never_ smiles. Give me a smile, lovely. If you don't do as I say, I will give you a red smile from ear to ear...how does that sound?"

"I wasn't intending to scream," She whispered, staring down at the knife with a raised brow. "Why let the crows and the stags know of us? Both our heads would be removed from our shoulders if I did so."

"Oh, I wouldn't be too worried, lovely..." Breathed the man, tugging at her ear roughly with his teeth and pawing at her breasts as he did so. "We're all _alone_."

"Do as your Lord commands," Lysara murmurs, closing her eyes from repulsion. "You were sent to kill me. _Kill me._ I will not be toyed with, Ser."

"Aye, he did say I was to kill you...paid me a fine amount to," The man agreed, keeping his grip tight on her as he backed her against the wall. Making no attempt to struggle, she met his eyes and held his dark stare with an impassive one. Despite wanting to claw the smirk off his face, Lysara knew she must wait. _Wait,_ she urged herself. _You have to wait._ "However, I think I will have my way with you...what say you? Don't worry, I will let them all know how much of a _tight_ fit you were and how you screamed for me before I slit your pretty neck."

Feeling him part her knees, she heard the hissing from the torches that were lined up along the walls. Staring ahead of her to the torch, Lysara let him separate her legs and hitch up her skirts. One hand remained on her breast while the other held the knife. The dark haired man let the knife press into her face, its bite was sharp and cold as he trailed it down her face. Her heart was racing so fast and hard, pounding against her chest that Lysara could not find the will to breathe as he continued to touch her. Digging his dirtied nails into her breast, she felt tears gather but did not let them fall despite the pain and disgust she felt.

"I wonder..." The man mused, trailing his tongue up her cheek to collect the trail of blood. She grimaced in his hold, trying to avert her head but he held her in place with the knife pressing into her throat. _I'll burn you,_ Lysara thinks. _I will watch as the flesh melts off your skin...as your bones blacken and as your body turns to ash._ "Your bastard brother will be walking down here come dawn...I wonder what he will feel when he comes across _your_ bloodied body. Dead-"

Bringing her hand up Lysara slapped him across the face, she had slapped him so hard that blood flew from his mouth and three nail marks run across his face. Bending down to pick up the knife he dropped, she scoffed and looked down at him with a blank face but behind the blankness of her face held pure _satisfaction._ The drums in her ears pounded and pounded and _pounded._ Their cries were telling her to kill him and be done with it.

The man did not have the time to react, she grasped his hair and pulled his head back. When the man emitted a roar, she draws a line with the knife across his throat. After that, all she saw was _crimson._ The sound of the man choking on his own blood lasted no longer than a few moments before a silence fell. The man collapsed to his knees, sparing her a loathsome glance before he dropped into the river of his own blood. Turning around, she approached one of the burning torches and pulled it from the metal hand that was holding it. The light flickered yellow against her blood covered face and with a final prayer, she dropped the torch onto the ground next to the man, setting the bits of straw on the ground aflame.

 _Burn,_ Lysara prayed. _Let them burn._

Lysara would create the biggest fire Stannis and Melisandre ever saw, that the North ever saw and she would dance it while she watched the world _burn._ To get her brothers back...to get her sisters back, it was worth burning the world to get them back. Taking another torch, she threw it onto the man and watched as the flames licked the man's clothing and soon enough the man was set aflame. Inhaling the smell of smoke, she let her eyes flutter close as a smirk appeared on her face.

Turning to walk down the corridor, she continued to pick up torches and set the Wall alight. _You killed an innocent man,_ she could almost feel her father's disapproval but she paid no mind to. No one in Westeros was innocent. Not _truly._ The sounds of various horns and frantic shouts met her ears as it carried with the wind that was picking up. No doubt, Mance was making an attack on the Wall once more and this time...this time he would win.

For her to get Winterfell and her siblings back, Lysara would help him win. The flames trailed after her as she walked away. To most, they would hear the sound of battle. But to her, it was the sound of her going home. To Winterfell. Grasping onto another torch, she held it closer to her face and closed her eyes, letting it drop at her feet as the fire grew. It grew _and_ grew and no one could stop it. Lysara stilled, casting a glance over her shoulder, ignoring the whispers that transformed into roars as she heard the inhuman screeching.

The screeching of _dragons._

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Author's Note: Hi, I hope you like this chapter. Things are starting to heat up again! I'd like to thank all of you for reading this story, for following and making it one of your favourites and I would like to give massive thanks to everyone who has left a review! If you have any questions feel free to ask and the next chapter should be up soon.

Reviews-

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you, a lot of things will still remain a mystery and will be steadily uncovered in the chapters to come.

enuji1799: She will be discovering some things soon.

RHatcy89: Thanks!

Guest: Thanks! I can say that they will be meeting soon!

Saint River: There will be definitely more of these two in chapters to come and a lot of things will be revealed as well. As for that, not even Lysara knows...she only knows what she sees.

celticank: Thanks! I hope you like this chapter!

Evangeline: Yep, things were getting a bit slow, I felt it to and was sort of getting a bit settled into this story but now I have come up with new twists and things have started to heat up in this chapter. Thank you, I'm glad you like Lysara.

kksambo: I feel like she has had a lot of character development but that is your opinion and I respect you for telling me how you fell. I can say that she does think about her brothers and sisters since separating from her brothers but I can say that her plan with the Wildling's did take time and now it is finally coming to head. She isn't good at fighting (at least not with a sword or with her fists) but she is good with a knife (and uses fire at times), though she was brought up as a Lady and like most places in Westeros, it was frowned upon and she preferred to read a book than play with a sword. I feel she can't be right all the time and her stubbornness can be her curse and (sort of) her blessing as well. With Lysara and the Lord of Light, being isolated and alone due to what was happening to her (with the dreams and the voices) she turned to him for comfort and I would say one of her traits is that she is rather possessive. I hope this explains a few things and I hope that you liked this chapter.


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